Finding Home
by thenerdnextdoor
Summary: Before Peter Parker, there was another troubled youth who clawed and scratched her way into Tony Stark's heart. She was stubbornly independent, antisocial, and elusive, but he still somehow developed a soft spot for her. The weird thing was, she developed a soft spot for him too. But that didn't mean they'd deal with it well. (Includes Avengers, X-Men & Deadpool; eventual OC/Peter)
1. Last Resort

**Hello friends. So my university career is finally over! Until I find a full time job, I have an enormous amount of free time on my hands, and I plan on using it to be creative again because I have missed it so much.**

 **Story specifics: yes, eventually this will involve a romance with Peter; however, that is not what the story is centred around, so don't expect him to come swooping in until nearer chapter ten - I've not got that far yet so I can't give you a specific chapter. This story centres around my character Mikaela and how she navigates life and mutants and Avengers and what-not. I've put the story in the Avengers section because the story follows those plot points more than any other.**

 **Chapter One - Last Resort**

They had put a bag over her head when they'd jumped her. It sits heavily against her face now, the frayed material tickling her nostrils whenever she attempts to breathe through whatever tiny holes there might be. It smells funny, and every so often it makes her sneeze.

She shifts uncomfortably on the wooden chair they dumped her on, unable to move her hands or feet. Rope digs into her wrists and ankles and she doesn't need to try to see her limbs to know there are bad rashes already. Her arms are tied behind her - just high enough that she's constantly on the verge of getting cramps - and her shoulders are starting to really ache because of it.

Her eyes are open, but the room is dark and there is nothing to make out through the material of the bag. A drop of sweat trails down her temple to her jawline, and she wrinkles her nose at the sensation. She has been waiting for around two hours, she estimates, but she knows their tactics - they won't work on her. She feels calm, tied there in the darkness awaiting those she betrayed, and she knows what she must do if things go south; she just really doesn't want to do it.

"This is a waste of time," she says, hearing how muffled her voice is in the bag.

"Really? I'm actually having a nice time, here," a voice replies from the darkness.

She rolls her eyes. "It's a waste of _my_ time, and is therefore a waste of _your_ time."

"I've been standing staring at you, all tied up, for one hour, fifty-seven minutes, and thirty-three seconds, and I have enjoyed _every_ goddamn second of it."

"Why don't we just get this over with and-"

"And, what? Untie you? Newsflash, girlie, you-"

"Oh my _god_ , Derek, what in the shit makes you think I'm talking to you?" she snaps, looking to where the voice was emanating from.

"Oh, fuck off, Mikaela," he retorts, pathetically.

The door straight ahead of her swings open, letting in a slight breeze that she only feels on her ankles. Something clicks, the noise deafening in the suddenly tense room, and she can now see a dim light through the bag. Footsteps echo towards her until the bag is quickly ripped off her head, snagging some hair on the way.

"Ow," she frowns. She scrunches her nose in lieu of scratching it when dust from the bag tickles her nostrils again. The light is bright and intense now that she's uninhibited, and she has to squint against it for a moment to adjust.

When her vision settles, she sees her boss, the gang leader, Tommy Diez, straddling a chair not two feet from her. "Alright, tough guy," he mutters, "How about we start with why the fuck-"

She sneezes. It's loud and sore in her chest, and the look on Diez's face makes her want to laugh until her sides split. "Sorry about that," she says, shaking the sneeze off, "Those damn bags are itchy. Please, do carry on."

He smirks bitterly at her. "You know, I used to love that attitude of yours. The whole "I laugh in the face of danger" thing. It was endearing. Until you fucked over the family and stabbed me in the back."

"Don't be so dramatic," she scoffs.

"Dramatic, huh?" he exclaims. "What, exactly, would _you_ call it?"

She shrugs. "Making things more interesting."

He frowns, squinting under bushy eyebrows at her. "Interesting?"

"I'm sorry, are you having trouble hearing?" she quips.

His fists clench as his countenance morphs from confusion into anger. She can see the faint outline of a vein pressing against the skin of his forehead, and wonders how much strain it can take. "Is this just a _game_ to you?" he asks. "I took you in when you were living on the streets when you were _nine_ years old. I fed you, sheltered you, gave you a job, for two fucking years, and this is how you repay me? I gave you a family and a home, Mac, does that mean nothing to you?"

She watches as his angry eyes expose hurt and vulnerability for a fleeting moment, and she almost cringes for him. "I know that family is, like, your _thing_ , and whatever, but," she shakes her head, "it was never mine. You're too soft, Diez, jesus."

He closes himself off again, straightening up on the chair to level her with an impassive glare. "Then why did you stay?" he asks coldly.

She snorts. "I mean, where else was I gonna go?" One place pops into her head, but it gives her the heebie-jeebies and she quickly pushes it out.

Diez brings his hands to his face and rubs at it tiredly. "So, you're an ungrateful brat. Okay. But why did you tip off Damon and his guys?"

She smiles sheepishly, watching the rage igniting in his eyes. "It had been going so smoothly. I was bored. Thought I'd spice things up a bit."

His eye twitches. The vein is pushing harder now against the skin of his forehead. His fingers are clutching the wood of his chair so hard his knuckles are white. " _What_ had been going smoothly?" he hisses.

She frowns. "What do you mean? The bank job, obviously."

He stands so quickly she nearly misses it, throwing his chair across the room to splinter against the wall. In one step he's reached an adequate distance from which to kick her chair over onto its back. She falls, bracing herself and struggling to position her hands in a way that her fingers won't break when she lands. Her head hits the concrete floor so hard she wouldn't have been able to feel any pain anyway. It all blossoms like a thorn bush on the back of her head and her vision wobbles momentarily.

"You little piece of shit," he spits, his head swinging into view above her. Vaguely, she notices how red his face has gotten and how she can practically see his anger vein ready to burst in his forehead. When she feels cool, sharp steel against her neck, she wonders if it's perhaps time to abandon pride and utilise her last resort.

She closes her eyes, pretending to be gathering herself in light of the new, very cold, very sharp, threat. She senses his phone in his back pocket and reaches out with her mind, sending the message she hoped she'd never have to send. When she opens her eyes again, she immediately regrets her actions, reading the discomfort and conflict clear on Diez's face.

He moves the blade away from her neck, but leaves it sitting flat on her collarbone as he regards her. "For fuck sake, Mikaela," he mumbles, frowning so hard it must hurt, "You're just a kid. You're eleven years old."

She breathes evenly, considering the fact that he might be incapable of killing her. At this point, she kind of wishes he would. "I'm aware," she replies.

He lifts the blade away from her body completely. She frowns and almost questions him.

"I'd be a monster if I killed you," he says. Sighing, he pulls her chair back into an upright position, and her head spins slightly. "Maybe I'm already a monster for making you a part of all this." He turns away from her, rubbing his face again.

She rolls her eyes. "Christ, calm it down, Broadway."

He looks at her over his shoulder. "For once in your life, Mac, shut the fuck up." She can hear his frustration, but there's also some kind of fondness there, and it's really starting to get on her nerves.

"Look, are you going to kill me or not? The way I see it, I betrayed the ' _family_ ', and the punishment for that is death. So, y'know, dish it out, dude."

"I gotta say, boss, I'm with Mikaela on this one," Derek pipes up.

"Shut up, Derek," Diez sighs dismissively. "It's not that simple, I can't just kill a kid."

"Sure you can," she chirps. "Everyone knows I don't really seem like my age anyway."

"Believe me, I know," he snaps. "It's been freaking me out since day one. You always talked and acted so adult.. it's like you're ten years older than you should be."

She can feel the mass of machinery approaching the building before she can hear it, and she sighs regretfully, knowing now that she reacted too quickly and just made this situation that much worse for herself.

" _Boss_ ," someone's voice comes in over the radio. " _Boss, there's a big fucking jet outside and two funky looking assholes got off and are fucking our shit up. They're looking for her_."

She locks eyes with Diez and watches the pieces come together in his mind.

Then the radio guy seals the deal. " _Jesus, Diez, I think they're mutants! What do we do_?"

She has never seen such disgust and repulse on another person's face before, and she instantly feels defensive.

"I always wondered about you," he whispers, so quiet and cold it makes her hair stand on end. "You were the best hacker I'd ever met at nine years old. I never asked how. You were the weirdest little fucking kid I'd ever met," he spits out, getting more and more enraged as the seconds tick by. "I never asked why. I just thought you were real smart; I thought you'd had to grow up too soon because you were living on the streets." He turns to face her fully, the metal of his knife glinting in the light. "You disgusting piece of shit. I can't believe I brought you into my _home_ , into my _family_!"

She feels her own rage burning deep in her chest, and she smirks bitterly up at him. "Congratulations," she hisses, "You adopted a fucking mutant."

An ear-shattering roll of thunder sounds mere metres away, making Derek and Diez flinch. "Fuck, boss, we gotta get outta here, _now_! They'll tear us apart!" Derek shouts over the noise.

Diez gestures his head, and Derek bolts out the door. Her old boss levels an enraged glare at her and points his knife in her direction. "You filthy abomination," he spits, "You will never, _ever_ , be safe. I will fucking _end_ you, I promise." And with that, he turns and escapes too.

Mikaela lets out a breath and closes her eyes, dreading what comes next. She halfheartedly attempts to wriggle out of her binds, knowing full well it will do her more harm than good. "Shit," she mutters, slouching against the chair in defeat.

Her last resort strides elegantly through the door and stares at her. "Mikaela?" the white-haired woman asks. Mikaela nods. "We got your message. My name is Storm." Mikaela just watches the woman, having already known her name. "Logan! In here!" Storm calls through the door.

A moment later, a gruff man swags in with a hairdo more ridiculous than the state of their costumes combined. He stops and gawks at her. " _This_ is the girl?" he grunts.

"Logan, this is Mikaela," Storm says.

"How old are you, kid?" he frowns.

"Old enough to know you shouldn't give personal information to strangers," she retorts. "Can you do me a favour and cut me out of these goddamn ropes now?"

"Language," he warns, but walks over to her chair nonetheless.

There is a noise like knives sliding against skin before the ropes give way around her wrists, and then her ankles, and she pushes herself out of the chair. She refuses to rub at her sore limbs in front of the adults, choosing instead to focus on the three metal knives extending from each of Logan's hands. "Okay, so, uh, thanks for the rescue, I guess," she shrugs. "I promise it won't be a regular inconvenience." She turns towards the door and starts to walk out, but a strong hand catches her around her upper arm.

"Think again, kid," Logan frowns. "The Professor wants to see you, after that stunt you pulled."

"What stunt?" she scowls.

"He means your mutation," Storm provides. "The Professor would love to meet you and learn more."

Mikaela scoffs. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have absolutely no intention of going to your little school in the middle of nowhere. I appreciate your help, but I'll find my own way from here."

Logan's grip tightens on her when she tries to move again. "Like hell you will. What are you, eight?" he provokes.

She knows fine well he's provoking her, and she hates that it works. "I'm eleven, _asshole_ ," she snaps bitterly.

"Oh, _eleven_ ," he replies sarcastically, "Yeah, you're fine. We'll just leave you to the mercy of this gang who, by the way, kidnapped you and tied you up."

"Logan, you're not helping," Storm sighs.

"Yeah, and what are _you_ doing?" Logan retorts.

Mikaela groans, rolling her eyes, and decides she's had enough. She closes her eyes and feels for the earpieces they're both wearing. When Logan tears his hand away to attack the deafening screech in his ear, she makes a break for it out the door.

Her bare feet pound against the cold floor of the corridor as she plans her escape route in her head. Heavy footsteps echo behind her, getting closer with each step, so she bursts the lights on the ceiling above her pursuer as he passes under each one, hoping to slow him down.

She's almost there when she hears a growl behind her and her feet are pulled out from underneath her. She falls fast, barely managing to brace herself with her hands before she smacks against the floor.

She rolls onto her back, glaring up at the smirking, bearded face leaning over her. "That fucking hurt," she whines.

"What did I say about language?" he asks rhetorically, leaning down to scoop her up and deposit her over his shoulder.

She blinks hard at the way her vision wobbles and blotches, ensuring she gives nothing away. "Not much," she replies, watching the back of his legs as he walks. She feels lightheaded, and suddenly a little bored of trying to run away.

Logan kicks a door open and fresh air rushes around her and into her lungs. She breathes gratefully, feeling their approach to the mutants' jet. When the ramp begins to lower, Mikaela makes one last half hearted attempt at resistance, and stops it in its tracks. She makes it close up again, and suddenly she has no idea what way up is or where she is in relation to it, despite feeling her feet make contact with the ground. Her vision swims with black dots and she feels herself swaying on the spot.

Logan holds her at arm's length, grimacing, as if she's shit herself. "What's this, kid? What are you doing?"

Storm rushes to her side. "Mikaela, are you okay?"

Mikaela can feel her consciousness slipping, and she doesn't like it. "Will you feed my brain?" she mutters, barely comprehensible, before falling forward into Logan.


	2. A Genius and a Mutant

**Hello again, I'm going to go ahead and give you the second chapter as well for a taste. I've written more chapters but I don't want to release them too early because I'm trying a new thing where when I'm writing one chapter, I always have at least another one to post in case it's taking me an age.. if that makes sense.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy.**

 **(I've edited the chapters because I've only just realised, after posting the 8th chapter, that my little lines separating the chapters into two sections were being deleted for some reason when I saved the documents! Thanks fanfiction!)**

 **Chapter Two - A Genius and a Mutant**

Mikaela sits in one of the school's living rooms, an entire three months later, with her feet up on a coffee table and a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Next to her on the couch sits Kitty Pride, someone she has begun to tolerate, surprisingly. There are a few others she reluctantly admits she doesn't mind, but Kitty is the contestant furthest ahead. It is difficult to enjoy the company of children your age when you feel like you're mentally ten years older than them. Kitty is the least eleven years old out of the rest of them, so Mikaela finds herself mildly enjoying their time together.

A group of younger kids run through the room, in between the girls and the television screen they're watching, mutations popping off left, right, and centre. Mikaela audibly growls and attempts to launch a handful of popcorn at them. Being made mostly of bloody air, the pieces barely travel further than her hand, floating mockingly to the carpet. "Aw, damn it, what a waste," she whines, pouting at the pieces on the floor. She eyes them for another second, considering how she'd have to throw them in the bin. "Nah, I'm just gonna eat them."

Kitty laughs and slaps at her hand when she reaches down for the popcorn. "That's disgusting, you can't eat floor-popcorn," she tells Mikaela.

Mikaela rolls her eyes and collapses back into the cushions behind her. "I hate this place," she mutters.

"Yeah, sure, that's why you've been here three months."

They are still watching the television as it moves onto a news programme, but they aren't really paying attention.

"Excuse me, I've only been here that long because I'm laying low," Mikaela retorts.

Kitty scoffs. "Oh, yeah, 'cos you're a _gangster_."

"Piss off," Mikaela frowns.

Kitty repeats her, even throwing in a terrible attempt at Mikaela's Scottish accent. Mikaela kicks Kitty's foot and Kitty shoves her shoulder in retaliation.

Something almost undetectably warm sparks in Mikaela's chest.

Suddenly she hears something said by a woman on the television. "Hold up, she's talking about Tony Stark," she says, straightening up.

Tony Stark's name has been in the news more so than usual recently, after his disappearance, reappearance, and then the explosive battle between two people in weird, metal suits at one of his buildings. Mikaela hasn't been paying much attention, having little patience for celebrity gossip, but it's all the students have been talking about for the past couple of days and now she finds herself somewhat invested.

"He's holding a press conference about the shit that happened!" Kitty exclaims excitedly, leaning forward.

The programme cuts to the conference as Stark approaches the podium. Camera flashes light up the podium consistently from the get-go, but it doesn't seem to phase Stark in the slightest - why would it?

" _Uh, it's been a while since I was in front of you - I figure I'll stick to the cards this time_ ," Stark begins. His audience laughs, but Mikaela and Kitty don't understand the joke. He clears his throat. " _There's been speculation that I was involved in the events that occured on the freeway and the rooftop_ -"

" _I'm sorry, Mr Stark_ ," a journalist interrupts, " _But do you honestly expect us to believe that that was a bodyguard in a suit that conveniently appeared, despite the fact that you_ -"

" _I know that it's confusing_ ," Stark cuts in, " _It is one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations or insinuate that I'm a superhero_."

" _I never said that you were a superhero_ ," the journalist retorts.

Kitty gasps, "Oh my god, he's totally Iron Man." Mikaela can't tear her attention away long enough to reply.

" _Didn't… well, good, because that would be outlandish and, uh, fantastic_ ," Stark replies, looking down conspicuously at the last word. Mikaela rolls her eyes. Stark sighs and stumbles on the start of his next sentence. " _I'm just not the hero type. Clearly_." Kitty scoffs disbelievingly. " _With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I've made, largely public_."

When the man next to him leans into Stark's ear, Kitty grabs a handful of Mikaela's popcorn. Mikaela shoves a handful of her own in her mouth, her intrigue through the roof.

Stark lifts his cards up and reads from them. " _The truth is_ …"

Kitty starts hitting Mikaela's arm repeatedly when the man hesitates. Mikaela hits her back, though more out of annoyance than excitement.

Stark's eyes meet the camera for a fleeting second, but Mikaela feels it in her chest for some reason.

" _I am Iron Man_."

As his audience erupts and the news reporter clambers to repeat the revelation for the viewers, Kitty jumps up from the couch, her arms in the air, and cheers. "I was right! He's Iron Man! Mikaela, how _cool_ is that?" she shouts. "Tony Stark is Iron Man! Oh my god!"

Mikaela smiles at Kitty's excitement and curls her legs into herself so Kitty won't trip over them in her victory parade, but her mind is going a million miles a minute and she has a strange sensation in her chest that she struggles to identify as hope.

Later that day, once the excitement has spread through the mass of students at the school, Mikaela walks the halls by herself, trying her best to avoid everyone. She doesn't want to share in their celebrations; it would make her uncomfortable and she believes she should be able to live her life avoiding uncomfortable situations. Plus, she isn't quite sure yet how she's feeling about the whole thing.

"Mikaela," someone calls from behind her. His accented voice is unmistakable, and he's not bouncing off the walls with excitement, so she allows the interaction.

"Hi, Professor," she replies, turning to face him.

"Would you mind joining me in my office?" he asks, smiling kindly. Before she can answer, he turns and moves his wheelchair back down the corridor and takes a right.

"Sure," she mutters to herself, shrugging, as she follows after him.

She closes the door behind her when they enter his office, and slumps into one of his armchairs. He smiles again and sets his wheelchair at her side, observing her.

"You know you creep me out when you do that," she says, raising an eyebrow at him.

He chuckles. "And you know that I can't do anything, given how your mutation has altered your mind."

She has to give him that. Her technopathy somehow makes her mind more difficult for him to access than everyone else's. She's pretty sure that's an advantage and a gift, so she doesn't complain.

"So, what's up?" she asks, fiddling with her fingers.

"I'm sure you know," he replies mystically, as always. "I understand you were watching Mr Stark's press conference."

"Yeah," she nods, "That bloke sure has been busy."

"Indeed," he hums. "He seems a very complex person." Mikaela isn't quite sure what she should say to that, so she stays silent and opts to watch her fingers again. "How are you settling in here, Mikaela?" Charles asks suddenly.

Mikaela frowns at her fingers, lost as to the purpose of this conversation. "Well enough," she replies.

"Now, we both know that's not quite true," he says.

She looks up at him. "Okay, sure. I don't really settle in anywhere. It's no big deal, nothing to get upset about."

"It means you are always looking for somewhere new to go," Charles claims. "You keep searching for people and places to go to, hoping to find a home - your home. I am not naive enough nor arrogant enough to assume that place is here, with my people."

Mikaela blinks at him, wondering if she should be feeling guilty at this point. Charles, the X-Men, and all the students at the school have been so welcoming and friendly - minus Logan - but she feels still that she doesn't quite belong here. It doesn't bother her much; she's never really felt like she belonged _anywhere_ , and she doesn't exactly expect that to change any time soon. She has kind of accepted that she's just a drifter - she doesn't have anywhere to settle and she never will, but that's okay. It's how she likes it.

"You have a sudden interest in Mr Stark," Charles continues. "Perhaps it would be worth your while paying him a visit."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It takes her three weeks to decide to leave. She is forced to make a big deal out of her leaving, in case she doesn't come back, and endures goodbyes with the students and adults she doesn't mind associating herself with. When she finally clears the building and gets into the car to be driven by Logan, she mutters about how she hates the place and he scoffs an agreement; but both sentiments are somewhat forced.

Logan drops her at a nearby bus station and she utilises public transport to get to her destination: Stark's personal mansion. It is an unpleasant journey, and now that she's back out in the real world, she finds herself looking over her shoulder occasionally, wary of Diez's threat. She knows she leaves no trace of her presence - she can easily locate and alter any and all camera feeds she might feature in as she walks along the streets - but she is cautious nonetheless.

Soon enough, she finds herself walking down the long drive approaching Stark's mansion. She had sensed the impressive system that Stark has in place to run security for the building, and immediately hid herself from its sensors. So, now, she is able to waltz up to the door, access the electronic systems, and let herself in, without anyone realising.

It's as extravagant as she had imagined on her journey over, but it has an elegance to it that she finds doesn't disagree with her tastes. Her feet take her quietly through all the rooms, observing the managed chaos Stark creates and his assistant mediates. A thought flitters through her mind about how much money she'd make live-streaming Tony Stark's personal home to the world,and she almost goes through with it - the one thing stopping her is the question of how smart Diez is, and whether he'd catch on.

She makes her way to the staircase and follows it down, feeling the mass of technology in the basement thrumming in her fingertips. There is a glass wall between her and the basement, and an access panel that she can override in her sleep.

The door opens easily for her and she steps inside, looking at the mess of papers and gadgets on countless desks throughout the room. Against the opposite wall, there is a line of gorgeous, madly expensive cars with personalised number plates. She moves to them, softly running her fingers over the bonnets, contemplating a future of her own looking something like this.

Behind her, a mechanic whir sounds almost curiously, and she turns to face a tall machine with three grabber-looking limbs that make it appear animalistic. She blinks at it and smiles, extending her mind to it. "Hi Dum-E," she murmurs. Something else moves to her right, and she rolls her eyes playfully. "Hello to you too, U."

She continues her walk around, coming across scribbles, elaborate blueprints, and coding alike. The machines follow her every move. It was endearing at first, but it's creeping her out now.

"Please identify yourself," a calm, English accent filters out from an unknown location.

"Hi JARVIS, welcome to the party," she replies, picking up a drawing of a prototype Iron Man suit.

"How did you get in here? Who are you?"

"The door," she replies. "And I'll explain later, maybe," she muses. "Depends on Captain Goatee."

"If you are referring to Mr Stark, I informed him immediately of your presence. He is on his way now."

"Good," she smiles politely, glancing up into thin air.

"You are not a known associate of Mr Stark," JARVIS observes.

"No," she agrees.

"You are very young."

"I've got an old soul," she retorts.

"How did you bypass my security?"

"Don't take it personally, J."

"I am incapable of doing so."

She smirks. "I like you."

There is a beat of silence. "I detect a Scottish edge to your accent."

"Good spot," she replies sarcastically - her accent has barely faded since her coming to America. "You're English."

"Mr Stark thought it would make me appear more intelligent."

"Why does that not surprise me?" she mutters.

"Mr Stark is approaching," JARVIS informs her, just as she identifies the technological suit speeding towards the mansion.

"This should be interesting," she comments, more to herself, feeling the need to take a deep breath. Is she nervous? Is that possible?

The red and gold suit comes flying in through the basement's personal driveway, so loud that Mikaela winces involuntarily. Blue lights stare at her from the eye holes in his mask and the centre of his chest, and he makes a big show of slowing to a stop, looming threateningly in the air. For a moment, he looks around the room, as if checking no one else is here.

" _This_ is the intruder?" he asks disbelievingly. His thrusters turn off and he drops with a clank to the ground, the plate covering his face sliding up out of the way. He looks her up and down, incredulous. "This tiny, little person broke into my home, without you realising?" he questions.

"I can be very quiet," she whispers dramatically.

"She somehow hid herself from my sensors," JARVIS explains.

He frowns at her for another moment, and then decides to shake it off and move past it. "Right. So, _who_ are you? Some child genius come to stalk me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she scoffs. "I just have a few tricks up my sleeves and wondered if you were in a similar boat."

"And what the hell does that mean?" he retorts, quirking an eyebrow.

She falters for a moment, observing the genuine confusion on his face. She hadn't even considered the possibility that she might come away disappointed. Clearing her throat, she pushes past her uncertainty and gets on with it. With the click of a finger, Stark's suit powers down.

"Uh, kid, did you just- JARVIS? What the- Hey, buddy, a little help here?" Stark blabbers.

Mikaela lets out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, deflating somewhat.

"I'm sorry, Mr Stark, but I cannot seem to access the suit," JARVIS announces.

"Alright, you are turning out to be a pain in my ass," Stark grunts, clearly still trying to move. "Who knew someone so small could be such a huge asshole?"

"It's a talent," she absentmindedly replies, releasing her hold on the suit so that JARVIS can regain control.

Immediately, Stark stumbles out of the Iron Man suit and catches himself, rolling his shoulders back as if he hadn't been in a panic two seconds ago. He glances behind him at the empty shell, and then back at Mikaela.

She isn't looking at him, too busy staring off into the distance. She hadn't anticipated this, and disappointment is an emotion she isn't very familiar with, having never really felt hope before either.

"How the hell can you bypass JARVIS?" Stark asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He almost looks offended that someone might be smarter than he is.

She sighs and waves a hand dismissively, shaking her head. "You know what, it doesn't even matter," she replies. "Uh, see you later."

She turns away from him, rubbing a hand down her face, and starts to walk towards the door. He quickly catches up to her and turns her around, frowning down at her.

"Yeah, I don't think so," he retorts. "You broke into my house, insulted JARVIS' intelligence, and disabled my suit."

"I didn't insult anyone," she counters, scrunching up her face in defiance. "There's nothing he could have done, nothing you could have programmed him with that would have prevented it."

"What do you mean?" he asks. Then he blinks, realisation igniting in his eyes, and takes a small step back, letting go of her arm. "Huh."

She pulls herself up as tall as she can go, levelling him with a hard stare. "Yeah?" she challenges. If he says one thing she doesn't like, she's totally ready to use his own suit against him.

He observes her, and she realises the look on his face is curious. "You're a mutant, aren't you?" he asks, surprisingly soft.

She frowns up at him, unsure of where the conversation is going, and unsure of how she should be 's nothing to stop her from being a complete asshole, since she now knows he isn't what she thought he was. But for some reason, she feels as though that would be wrong. Which is a strange thought in itself, considering she doesn't have the soundest moral compass and therefore never really considers things to be "wrong".

He slips his hands into his pockets, looking her up and down again, not that she's much of a distance to cover. "I, uh, I feel strangely… honoured?" he tries, his face contorting as he attempts to find the words. "I thought you guys liked to stick to yourselves. Or are you one of the evil mutants?"

She scoffs, initially thinking she's far from evil, but then reconsiders. His eyebrows lift, amused but concerned. "I guess I'm in a sort of grey area," she decides.

He purses his lips, his eyes narrowed at her. "Right," he nods. "That's not comforting."

"I'm not gonna kill you or anything," she retorts, rolling her eyes.

"You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it."

She smirks, shaking her head. Then she remembers why she came to his house in the first place, and her smirk falls. "Listen, sorry for freaking you out, or whatever. I was gonna say I'll see you around, but I probably won't. So, bye," she says, turning to leave again.

"So I'm not going to get an explanation for a prepubescent mutant breaking into my home?"

She stops and turns halfway, looking along her shoulder at him. Her mouth opens to do something - whether it's tell him to piss off, give him an explanation, or blatantly lie, she doesn't actually know - and she only manages to exhale loudly, shrugging.

"Enlightening," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "Look, kid, you invaded my privacy, and I think that means you owe me an explanation."

She looks away from him, towards his line of cars, and clears her throat. "I just wanted to know if you were like me, that's all," she admits.

"You thought I was a mutant?" he asks, smirking. "Am I really so smart that people think it's a mutation?"

She tries to spit out a retort, but comes up blank for some reason. She doesn't even look at him. He was supposed to be a technopath like her. Charles had encouraged her to come here - surely he knows that Stark is nothing but a plain, old, human? Why would he send her all this way just to feel out of place again?

Stark clears his throat, sensing the mood and feeling uncomfortable. "So, uh, what's your deal? Electricity or something?"

"Technopathy," she replies, glancing at him briefly, before looking down at her hands. "Anything technological, I can tap into and control. I can get into the internet as well."

"And you thought I could do the same," he says.

She stops fiddling with her hands and shoves them in her pockets, frowning at the wall instead. She doesn't really know what it is that she's feeling - disappointment, loneliness, frustration, exhaustion - because she's usually indifferent and detached to everything and everyone. She has no idea how to deal with these emotions, or if it's actually them that she's feeling.

"Look, coming here was a mistake, okay?" she tells him, smiling bitterly. Her jaw clenches and unclenches rhythmically in time with the thoughts battling inside her head.

"Because I'm not a mutant?" he asks, crossing his arms. "What would the successful outcome have looked like? Humour me."

She throws her hands into the air, scoffing. "I don't know, okay? I don't know what I wanted or why I came here. I should have just stayed where I was." She rubs her fingers into her temples, scowling, thinking that she probably shouldn't have even stayed at the school as long as she had.

"So, you broke into my home for no reason?"

"I don't know, maybe I was hoping that there was someone out there like me so I wouldn't feel so goddamn alone!" she snaps loudly.

She clenches her jaw shut as soon as she realises the shit that she blurted, closing her eyes angrily against his prying gaze. She is so frustrated with herself, with the sudden onslaught of draining emotions that reminds her of being six years old, and with her stupidity in front of this random man.

Except he isn't random - he was supposed to be the same as her.

"How old are you, kid?" Stark asks. He seems to be breezing past the outburst, probably as unequipped as she is to deal with it.

"Nearly twelve," she replies quietly, opening her eyes but refusing to look at him still.

"Where's your family?"

She smirks. "My mum's in Scotland, having disowned me, and my dad? I don't know. I left him to live on the streets alone four years ago."

"Huh," he mutters, moving to a chair nearby and sitting heavily. He runs a hand down his face. "Where do you live now?"

"Uh," she falters, wondering if she can class anywhere as her place of living at the moment. "Nowhere, I guess? I just move around."

"Do you have a place to go to when you leave here?" he asks, trying to hide his hope that she won't have to stay with him.

She chuckles bitterly, "I'm not going to latch onto you, Stark, calm down."

"Okay, good, because adopting some street rat would really ruin my reputation with women," he replies.

"I bet," she nods, playing with her fingers. This whole interaction had gone completely off track from what she had planned in her head on the way over, and she feels immensely uncomfortable. "So, uh, can I leave now? Have I given you enough info?"

He rubs his hands together. "Yeah, sure."

They glance at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to end the interaction. Eventually, she just nods and moves to the door, closing the glass behind her.

She never knew she could have such a messy conversation with someone. Why she let him have some control over it, and why she let herself get so worked up that she blurted something personal, she has no idea. All she knows is that if she never saw his face again, she would be absolutely fine and everything would go back to normal.


	3. The Ghost

**I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far!**

 **(Edited to include my separation of the chapter into two bits)**

 **Chapter Three - The Ghost**

She sits cross-legged in the middle of her bed, her hands resting on her knees, her eyes an unnatural grey. She blocks out the noises of the students wandering the halls, talking to their friends, laughing, setting off their mutations, and focuses on the sensation of inhaling air into her lungs. Her chest expands, and then falls, slow and quiet, repeating the motions over and over again. Her gaze is fixed on the wall opposite her bed, stuck on boring, varnished wood. But her eyes see something else entirely.

She watches Diez, sitting outside a cafe somewhere in New York, a takeaway cup of coffee in his hand. He's sitting with one of his henchmen, Derek, the same man who was in the room when Diez was interrogating her. Diez is wearing sunglasses and one of the most smug smirks Mikaela has ever seen a human wear, while Derek shifts uncomfortably.

"What are we here for, boss?" Derek asks.

"The view," Diez replies, sipping at his coffee.

"There ain't much of a view here," Derek observes, looking around at the busy street lined with towering buildings.

"It's not our view we're here for," her old boss retorts.

Diez looks up and across the street, takes off his sunglasses, and grins at the CCTV camera Mikaela's currently watching them through. She hates to admit it, but his grin unnerves her. She knows it's for her, and she's infuriated that he knows she's still keeping an eye on him. He knows that his threat got to her, that she might actually be feeling something akin to fear.

The grey hue in her eyes dissipates when she blinks angrily, clenching her fists so hard her fingernails dig into her skin. Five months ago, her emotions were safely underused in the back of her mind, and she never felt the need to utilise them. Then she messed with one of the gang's plans - which was something she did quite often, if she was honest, just in a more subtle manner - and let herself hang around all these innocent, friendly mutants, and suddenly her emotions are coming out of their cage, and they are damn well _not_ doing just fine.

She groans in annoyance and falls backwards onto her bed, trying desperately to avoid getting that song stuck in her head.

"What the fuck is with all these emotions?" she mutters to herself. A thought occurs to her as soon as she asks it, and a quick probe with her mind gives her an answer. "Fucking puberty. Great. Four years of this shit before I can get back to being a sociopath?" She opens her mouth to exhale loudly and dramatically, letting her head drop to the side.

She closes her eyes and thinks over the past two months since she got back from Stark's mansion. Her emotional outburst at the billionaire had freaked her out and embarrassed her more than she could say. When she got back to the school - after a good twenty-four hours deciding whether she would - she gave Charles a quick rundown of the interaction, and retreated to her bedroom. If she ever comes out of it, she's going to eat or to get out into the surrounding estate by herself.

Kitty still hasn't given up trying to get her to hang out, but Mikaela just doesn't want to anymore. She doesn't want to be friends with anyone, because friends bring emotions and she's sick to the back teeth of all these fucking emotions. She wants to leave and never look back, return to her life of stealing money from rich people to fund her hotels and meals; but, for some reason, deep down, she knows it's too late for that now.

So, here she is: stuck between a rock and a hard place, refusing to become friends with anyone, but knowing she's spent too long here to just walk away. Where is she supposed to go from here?

Someone knocks on her door, loudly. She knows immediately, thanks to the heavy bluntless of it, that it's Logan who's knocking. She rolls her head to face away from the door, remaining silent.

He walks in anyway. "I have half a mind to drag you out of this damn school and leave you in the middle of a field somewhere," he grunts, closing the door behind him.

"And the other half?" she asks, bored.

"Well, the other half is telling me to take it a step further and push you out of the jet over Scotland."

She considers it for a moment, wondering if she would ever actually like to go back to Scotland. "Sounds good."

He grunts an agreement and sits in the armchair next to her window. She rolls her eyes and looks over to him, watching the sun fall gracefully on his scowl. He's wearing his favourite leather jacket, his sunglasses hanging loosely by a leg in his fingers, looking like he thinks he's some kind of bad boy.

"What do you want?" she sighs, looking away from him again.

"I don't think that's the right question," he replies. His eyes move to her face and he lifts his chin at her. "What do _you_ want?"

"World peace," she drawls.

"Cut the bullshit, kid, come on. The Professor's putting you up, feeding you, letting you mope around here like some ghost. What are you really doing here?"

She groans, loud and long, to let him know just how much he's aggravating her. "I thought this was a safe haven for mutants? Why are _you_ here?"

"Because I like the people here," he admits, reluctantly. "And I like protecting them, because I'm good at it."

"You _like_ people? _You_?" she asks, incredulous.

"Some of them," he grimaces. "You? Not so much."

She barks out a laugh. "Yeah, feeling's mutual." They sit quietly for a moment, but she knows he's waiting on her answer. "What if I had the same reasons?"

"How the hell are you protecting anybody?" he smirks, amused by the concept.

"The longer I lay low, the less likely Diez is to find me," she shrugs, although it's hard to do lying on her thick duvet.

"So, you're protecting yourself," he amends, scoffing. "Your old gang leader isn't going to come after the school because you screwed up a bank heist."

She sits up to look at him properly, frowning. "You didn't see his face, you didn't hear what he said, when he realised I was a mutant. The guy called me an 'abomination'."

"Some shitty gang leader is never gonna find out where the school is," Logan tells her. "And if he does, I'll kill him."

She pouts, sighing. "I just don't want it to get to that point," she says. "I should never have come to the school in the first place, that was a mistake that put everyone in danger. Now, I'm too invested to just piss off and leave you all to deal with whatever shit follows me here."

"Old news, kid," he grunts. "We're in danger the moment we're born as mutants. If it isn't Diez attacking, it'll be someone else. Get over it and get your head out of your ass. You're not that important."

She widens her eyes briefly, giving him more attitude. "Jeez, grandad, easy on the sentimental shit, I might just draw you a family portrait of us holding hands, with little hearts around the edges."

"Man, I hate teenagers," Logan mutters, pushing himself out of the armchair.

"I'm not a teenager yet," she retorts, "Still twelve."

"Last I knew, you were eleven," he replies, frowning at her.

"Wow, did we just discover the man-made concept of time?" she gasps.

He blinks at her for a moment, with a gaze that looks positively murderous, and then marches out of her room, leaving her door wide open just to piss her off.

She collapses back onto her bed again, sighing heavily. She doesn't know how people around her keep getting her to reveal personal shit to them all the time, but it's starting to get on her nerves. It's almost as if she secretly wants to have real friends… but she quickly dismisses that thought with a scoff.

She wonders if Logan has a point though, that maybe she _should_ just leave and get back to her life. The X-Men can take care of the school if anything happens, and she can always keep an eye on the nearby towns just in case something suspicious is heading towards the school when she isn't there.

Mikaela nods to herself, satisfied with the idea. "I'll just get back to living my life," she tells herself. She lays there for another moment, blinking, and glancing around her room.

Mikaela realises she doesn't know what she actually _has_ that requires getting back to.

She closes her eyes, sighing again, and finds herself searching for the technology in Tony Stark's house. "Why am I here?" she groans.

Stark is in his basement, working away on some part of his Iron Man suit, with AC/DC playing loudly in the background. Mikaela figures she might as well have a nosey while she's there, and delves into his personal files, looking around for anything interesting. The word "Ghost" catches her eye, reminding her of Logan's description of her quiet presence in the school, and she looks into the file, discovering that JARVIS is running some programmes for the file in the background of his other activities. She frowns when she sees that he is running facial recognition through CCTV cameras in New York for young girls around her age, and of the same facial features.

Opening her eyes, she sits up on her bed again. "That's rude."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few days later, Mikaela throws another handful of popcorn towards the general vicinity of her mouth. Humming happily when a few pieces hit their target, she ignores any that fall onto her chest. The television she's watching a film on is massive and high-tech, and she vaguely wonders if the Professor would allow her to steal one similar for the main living room at the school.

She hears the door to the basement open from downstairs, before someone's footsteps climb the staircase. When they reach the top, they pause momentarily.

"Well, well, well," Stark speaks, "If it isn't the ghost of Stark manor." His footsteps sound again as he approaches the sofa she's sprawled herself along. "How long have you been in my house?"

"Well, as you can see, Nic Cage is just about to find the treasure he's spent the whole movie looking for, so I'd say around a couple of hours," she replies, her gaze never moving from the screen.

" _National Treasure_ , really?" he asks, picking up the DVD case to look at it.

"What? It's a national treasure," she retorts, smirking.

He moves round the end of the sofa and pulls her feet off the cushions so that he can sit down. Reaching over to take some popcorn from the bowl on her stomach, he asks, "So, what brings you back, little ghost?"

"You've got JARVIS looking for me," she answers, remembering then to let the AI system see her. "That's an invasion of my privacy, you know."

"Hello," the English voice speaks from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. "I've found her, Mr Stark."

"Very funny, JARVIS," Stark rolls his eyes. "How did you know I was looking for you?"

She pauses chewing momentarily. "A little birdie told me."

"Yeah, you were spying on me. Don't you think that's an invasion of _my_ privacy?"

She shrugs. "Not so much."

"I forgot how difficult you are," he comments.

"If I'm difficult, why were you looking for me?" she challenges, keeping her gaze on the screen even if she might not actually be paying it full attention anymore.

"To make sure you weren't coming back," he quips.

"Why don't I believe that?"

"Because it is not true," JARVIS announces.

"JARVIS, you work for me, buddy, which usually means you keep your mouth shut in these kinds of situations," Stark reprimands his creation.

"I do not have a mouth," JARVIS replies.

"I, for one, appreciate his honesty," Mikaela comments. "So?"

"So," Stark shrugs, "I wanted to see what you were capable of, whether you'd ever let your guard down."

"And?"

"Why do you think I've referred to you as a ghost?" He reaches over for another handful of popcorn, glancing at her. "What's your name anyway, kid?"

She takes a few moments to consider her answer. This guy still isn't a mutant, and she still thinks he's not going to be a frequent character in her life. "You hit the nail on the head," she decides, "My name's Ghost."

"Oh, yeah, that on your birth certificate?" he drawls, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth skillfully.

"You bet," she nods, "My parents had an obsession for the supernatural. Weird, I know."

"Is there any record of you? Anywhere?" he asks, clearly frustrated at his inability to get some dirt on her.

"Nah, I deleted it all. Started fresh when I left my dad."

He watches her silently for another moment, before turning back to the television with his arms crossed over his chest. For the first time, she looks over at him quickly, trying to be as subtle as she can. He looks calm and unbothered, but she sees the way his jaw clenches briefly. She wonders why he's letting her get to him so much.

"Oh, here's a question," he says, "Why _were_ you spying on me?"

Mikaela purposefully takes her time to finish chewing the popcorn in her mouth, stalling for an answer. She can't exactly tell him the thought process she was having before she found herself checking in on him. "I was bored," she replies after a moment.

He rolls his eyes in the most dramatic manner, making her smile behind her hand as she hauls up the next mouthful of popcorn. Stark is fun to annoy.

"Kid, what is it with all the secrecy and lies?" he groans. "You're, like, ten years old, what are you doing?"

She pouts. "I'm twelve, thank you very much."

"I don't care."

She shrugs and picks some of the stray pieces of popcorn off her chest, shoulders, and stomach. "I've got people to protect."

"Family?"

"No," she frowns, shaking her head, "I told you about my mum and dad."

"You gave me a very brief rundown, it's not the same," he retorts. "I had hoped you lived with other mutants or something at least, you're way too young to be living alone."

"I have a place I can go to," she supplies. "But I lived on the streets by myself for two years before I was ten, so," she trails off.

He shifts a little in his seat so that his body is facing her more than the television, throwing an arm onto the back of the sofa. Scratching his chin, he regards her. "Why did you leave your dad? Why did your mom disown you?"

She frowns over at him. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because you've broken into my home twice now," he replies, as if it's obvious.

"Do you make a habit of getting to know your enemies like this?"

"Are you my enemy? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"No," she replies, sighing. He opens his mouth to keep going, but she cuts him off. "But that doesn't mean I'm your friend."

He gives her a look. "What kind of loser would I be if I was friends with a twelve year old?"

She almost gets defensive, thinking of the adults at the school who would probably call her a friend; but they're not exactly _not_ losers.

"Look, I was just a little concerned about a child running around by herself, breaking into places, without someone to have her back," he tells her, uncomfortable.

"I don't need someone to have my back," she retorts.

"Maybe you don't," he admits, "And it's not like I'm looking to be that person. You're just some kid who keeps breaking into my house and giving me attitude."

She smirks. "Yeah, it's so fun."

"Is that why you came back? To piss me off some more?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow at her.

She looks away from him, trying to hide the way her smirk falls. She doesn't really know why she came back, or why she subconsciously went to him when she was figuring out what her life is now. And she's not sure she wants to find out, or if she's even ready to find out.

She's been quiet for a while now, but Stark was considerate enough to direct his attention towards the end of the film, rather than stare her down until she answers. He looks more relaxed now, although his fingers are gently drumming a rhythm on the armrest. She wonders what he really thinks of her, and whether he just wants her out of his life forever.

"I don't know why I came back," she eventually replies, her voice barely audible over the noise of the film. She's not sure what made her be honest with him for once, but she figures it couldn't hurt this one time.

He doesn't reply for a moment, but she knows he heard her, because his gaze has fallen to the coffee table between the sofa and the television, and his jaw is clenching again.

"Have I told you about the guy that's been bothering me?" he asks, as if they're just two friends having a conversation. She frowns at him, uncertain of where he's going or what he expects her to do. He doesn't look at her for an answer. "He keeps talking about starting up this group of people like me, who can do some good. You know, take down the bad guys, that schtick."

Mikaela can't look away from him, almost worried that if she does, he's going to attack her or something. "Huh," she murmurs, cautious.

He clears his throat. "Yeah. You'd probably be a useful addition, if you were interested. I could put you two in touch."

"I'm good," she replies, her guard lowering again. "I don't use my mutation for that kind of thing," she explains, "I stay out of all that sneaky government shit, 'cos who needs that stuff on their shoulders?"

He shrugs. "It was just in case you wanted something to do, to cure that boredom of yours."

She looks down at the bowl in her lap, almost empty. "I don't think I could risk having someone controlling me and my mutation. I mean, I can make CCTV cameras think they're seeing some random kid instead of me, I can falsify records, steal millions at the blink of an eye - I could find out a government's deepest, darkest secrets," she trails off. "I'd rather do nothing with my life than let someone have authority over me and my mutation. It's way too big a risk."

For the first time, Stark smiles a genuine smile. Not a smirk, and not sarcastic. It's only little, but for some reason, it makes Mikaela feel good.

"Well, look at you," he says. "You can be a decent person." She almost smiles, but then he continues, "Although, you'd be a better person if you didn't turn a blind eye to all the corruption and evil you could find out there. You could be helping the world where it really counts: corrupt politicians, drug operations-"

She stands up abruptly, her patience exhausted. "You think I should be helping the world?" she laughs bitterly. "Fuck that. The world hates me, is disgusted by me, thinks I'm an abomination, why the hell should I do anything for the people who antagonise mutants every chance they get?"

He has the decency to look regretful of his words. "Sorry, kid, I didn't think about that."

"Not everyone's as beloved as you, Stark. I come out to the world as a mutant, I'll be hunted down and killed. That's what my world looks like, so forgive me if I'm not jumping at the chance to save it."

She drops the bowl onto his lap as she stalks past him and out of the living room. Her fists are clenched at her sides and her heart is thumping angrily in her chest. She expands her mind, finding the speakers that usually accommodate JARVIS' voice. " _And, by the way,_ " she hears her voice echo through the mansion, " _If you ever tell anyone about me, I will fuck up your life so bad, you'll never be able to charm your way back_."

She walks out of Stark's home, promising herself she will never come back.


	4. The Attack

**Hey, guys, I hope you're all enjoying this story! For anyone desperate for Peter, I've just started writing chapter ten and I think at the end of that one I'll bring him in, either in a mention or a proper appearance. I can't wait to have him and Mikaela interact! Of course, knowing Mikaela, it won't be all sunshine and butterflies straight away..**

 **Anyway! The romance is not the centre of this story. Mikaela is. So, onwards!**

 **(Edited to include my separation of the chapter into two bits)**

 **Chapter Four - The Attack**

Mikaela's feet march her towards the front door. She can see lights on inside, and realises Stark has company. At this point, she couldn't care less. She opens the door and cuts the power to the house, drowning the rooms in darkness. Blocking JARVIS' attempts to rectify the situation, she follows the sound of questioning voices and finds Stark with his army buddy in the living room.

"Who's there?" Rhodes asks, and she hears him pull out his gun, clicking the safety off.

Her anger spikes, and she latches on to one of Stark's suits, turning the thrusters on full so it bursts through the floor nearby with a deafening crash. She can see the two men through the suit's eyes, and quickly targets them.

"You found the school," Mikaela says quietly, glaring at Stark.

"Ghost?" he exclaims, bewildered. "What are you doing?"

"You found the school!" she shouts, sending a blast from the suit's hand off into the wall.

"Rhodes, don't shoot!" Stark yells. "Put your gun down!"

"Are you crazy?" Rhodes retorts.

"Did you tell anyone?" Mikaela demands, furious. "Did anyone know I came here?"

"No, of course not!" Stark tells her.

"You were the only one who knew!" she yells. "Someone must have hacked into your system and found the location!"

"Ghost, when I found that school, I knew instantly I'd gone too far, and I deleted everything about it," he says, trying to calm her down. "What's going on? What happened?"

She lifts her hands to grip her head, at a complete loss of what to do. The suit powers down and crumples to the floor at her side. Breathing heavily, she runs her hands through her hair and restores all the power and JARVIS's control.

She can see the men with her own eyes now. Rhodes looks confused, but very angry, with his gun still trained on her. Stark looks genuinely concerned, which makes her feel even worse.

"Ghost?" he asks quietly, approaching her at a slow pace. "Are you okay?"

She just breathes for a moment, her hands rubbing relentlessly at each other. When she looks up at him, her face hard and stony, she realises her eyes are stinging with unshed tears.

"They took my friends," she whispers. "They took kids."

"Who? From where? The school?" he frowns, kneeling in front of her.

She shakes her head, looking away. "I'm gonna find them," she mutters, "And I'm gonna kill them."

"Ghost, you need to talk to me."

She brings her attention back to him, glaring. "You never go near that school again, you hear me?" she hisses. Then she turns away and heads back towards the front door.

"You are not going out there by yourself, I-"

She powers up the suit again and has it stand between her and the men, targeting them with the little rockets that come out of the suit's shoulders. That effectively shuts them up.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela sits on the hood of the jeep she stole, looking down at the sand clinging to her black boots. Each individual grain seems to be mocking her inability to control the things around her, whispering scathing comments in her head until she angrily claps her feet together, shaking some of the sand off.

She lifts her head, nudging her sunglasses back up her nose. All around her is flat, dusty land, and a single, boringly straight road with barely any other cars. The sun beats down on her relentlessly, her black clothing soaking up so much heat she can feel lightheaded sometimes. She picks up the water bottle sitting next to her and takes a couple of big gulps, savouring the cool moisture as it trickles down her dry throat.

"Save some of that for me, cupcake," a voice calls from behind her.

She screws the lid back on the bottle and slides off the hood, turning to look at him. "You're not getting any more of this, or we'll have another," she pauses to check her watch, " _fifteen_ minute toilet break."

He pulls at the collar of his red and black suit, opening the driver's door. "God, this thing is so hot, I bet I'm pissing mostly sweat."

She scrunches up her face in amused disgust and climbs into the passenger seat next to him, putting the water bottle down at her feet where the sun can't warm it up. "I'm sure," she replies sarcastically.

"Drop the attitude or I'll slash you up, cupcake," he chirps, turning the engine over and pulling out onto the empty road again.

"Sorry, Wade," she apologises, knowing from experience to not question his mood swings.

They've been on the road for a couple days, heading out towards an abandoned town that Mikaela's certain holds her captive friends. Two weeks ago, all of her fears about Diez and his threat were proved completely rational, when a load of kids went on a supervised trip to the nearest mall to the school. Mikaela had joined them, half out of boredom, and half because of that lingering fear, knowing only Scott was going with the kids. Something had felt off to her the entire time, and she had said as much to Scott, but he ensured her that nobody knew any of them were mutants, so they were perfectly safe.

The kids had been great, doing as they were told and sticking together, remaining in Scott's eyesight. Mikaela felt like there were eyes watching them, but when she looked around, nobody she could see were suspicious to her - background checks didn't dig up anything worth her paranoia. But then she utilised the CCTV cameras nearby, and spotted a dozen armed men with earpieces. One was peering around a corner at her, with a piece of paper in his hand - it had a drawing of her likeness on it, and her heart had stopped when she saw it.

The men had removed their earpieces and threw them to the ground, advancing on the group of kids so fast Scott barely had time to react. A couple of unmarked vans screeched to a halt at the entrance to the mall, and several of the men were carrying a kid on each arm, bolting towards their transport. Mikaela and Scott were far away, the adult reluctant to use his destructive mutation in the presence of so many humans, running as fast as they could towards the group.

Mikaela had searched for anything she could access on the men's persons, but had come up blank. She knew then for sure that Diez was behind the attack, that he had prepared for her mutation before sending the men out. Instead, she overloaded any vending machines, lights, alarms, _anything_ , near the men as they ran past, managing to stop a couple before they reached the doors. The humans around them had started to really panic at that point, running away from the exploding machines and into Scott and Mikaela's path. Screams and shouts and yells echoed through the mall, but Mikaela could only hear the kids and their cries for help, their shouts of terror.

Eventually, they reached the main group, and with the humans safely out of the way, Scott threw off his glasses and shot out a warning blast of red energy. One of the attackers dropped the kids he was holding, using his arms to shield his head instead, and ran out. But the rest of them had gotten away, throwing the stolen kids into the back of the vans which wasted no time in tearing off and out of sight.

Mikaela's chest had been heaving, her heart thumping loudly in her ears. Scott was making sure the remaining kids were okay, doing a headcount to see how many they had lost. But Mikaela could only gape at the empty space outside the mall, the kids' screams playing in her head over and over again.

She had realised Scott was saying her name, and turned to him. "Get them back to the school," she heard herself saying, "I'll get rid of the footage and find the others. I'll fix this," she had promised, and she meant it.

She knew she wouldn't be able to take on Diez's gang by herself and survive; she needed someone who knew how to kill. Wolverine, she knew, would have been totally up for slaughtering the gang, but he would probably forbid her from coming along. Stark, if he hadn't been the cause of the gang finding out where to get them, wasn't a mutant and therefore couldn't be involved in mutant business, and would also ensure her lack of involvement. She just needed someone who would get the job done. That's when she had found Deadpool.

"This writer's going to do a shit job of conveying my complex character," he mutters from beside her, so quiet she almost doesn't hear him.

They have only known each other for about three days, but she has already been privy to multiple baffling comments, dangerous mood swings, and the sharp steel of his katanas. Mikaela subconsciously lifts a hand to rub her upper arm, feeling the bandage under her fingertips. He is indeed a complex character, but she offered a large sum of stolen money, and he happily agreed to come along, so really she can't complain.

Diez has gotten good at hiding his activities from her, but she still managed to find communications between a spokesperson for the gang and someone from a private organisation that was apparently interested in biological advancements. Some further digging informed Mikaela that what they meant by that, was they enjoyed acquiring mutant bodies, alive or dead, and performing experiments. _They_ weren't so good at hiding their activities, which led her to the discovery of the abandoned town she and Deadpool are driving towards.

He leans forward to turn the radio on, squealing happily when he finds a station playing 'No Scrubs'. He immediately adds his voice to the music, putting his heart and soul into it, dancing as much as he can in the driver's seat. Mikaela smiles cautiously, still uncertain of what exactly could set him off. She threads her fingers around the handle on the door and drums her fingertips along to the beat, wondering at how fucked up they both are.

Deadpool had told her about his childhood - well, actually, he'd told her a couple of versions and she has no idea whether either of them were the truth - and about his recent battle with cancer and acquirement of his healing abilities. That bit seemed genuine, and sounded absolutely wild - and not in a fun way. He has a twisted sense of humour, a grasp of reality that is either massively inaccurate or far more comprehensive than anyone else in the world, and gets a genuine thrill out of killing people in particularly imaginative ways. More than once, Mikaela has caught herself questioning whether hiring him was a good idea or not. But then she searches CCTV feeds of him in action and reassures herself that he was one of the best options. She doesn't want Diez just plain old dead, the way Stark or Logan would leave him; she wants him completely obliterated in as cruel a way as he deserves, and Deadpool is her best bet for that.

"So, Sarah Connor, what's your origin story?" Deadpool asks, glancing at her for a moment.

Mikaela looks down at herself, observing the black tank top, black trousers, and black boots. Then she looks into the mirror at the sunglasses staring back at her under a black baseball cap. She supposes there are worse people to be compared to and, really, what does she expect him to call her when she refused to give him a name? She _had_ tried Ghost, but he had laughed loudly, slapping his knee, and told her it was a "stupid fucking name" and to "be more original next time, idiot". So, he'd resorted to "cupcake" and any pop-culture reference that struck him as appropriate in the moment.

"Origin story?" she repeats, smirking at him. "That makes me sound like a hero. Or an evil villain."

"So? Which one are you?" he responds.

"Are you really forcing me to fit into one of those descriptions? You?" she retorts, forgetting herself momentarily.

"Yeah, you're right. Audiences like anti-heroes these days, folks who do good deeds but are assholes the majority of the time," he concedes, luckily not taking offence to what she said. "That ol' binary is, like, _so_ five years ago," he says, imitating a young girl, laying the American accent on thick.

"Sure is," she nods, looking out the window at the boringly flat, beige landscape. For a moment she misses the hills of green back home, the smell of rain in the forest, the way a clear blue sky was something special for them.

"Don't think you got away from that question, cupcake," Deadpool cautions, bringing her out of her reverie.

She sighs, shrugging, "Oh, you know, mummy _and_ daddy issues," she begins.

"Mhmm, who doesn't?" he interjects.

"Lived on the streets for a while before I hit ten, was taken in by a gang who I later betrayed, leading to their kidnapping of several innocent mutants. Nothing too special," she finishes. Humour is a coping mechanism, and Mikaela sure is a coper.

"Wonderful, just wonderful," he replies, as if a theatre critic reviewing a play. "Childhood trauma, a great builder of character, am I right?"

"Oh, for sure," she nods. "Nothing like a few repressed memories to help shape a young person's budding personality."

He snorts, turning the wheel back and forth slowly so they swerve across the road and back again. Mikaela sways with the jeep, breathing deeply as a strange sense of calm washes over her. They must be about ten minutes out now from the abandoned town, and she can feel her revenge growing closer by the second. She cannot wait to see Deadpool demolish Diez, she really can't.

"I'd like to thank you for this opportunity, cupcake. It's been a few days since I last disemboweled someone. I think I'm showing signs of withdrawal," Deadpool says, taking his hands off the wheel. He stares down at them, and then shoves them in her face. "Look at me, I'm shaking!" he exclaims in anguish.

She can't help but chuckle at him, but he seems to be okay with it, commenting on how heartbreaking it is to see someone forced to show constraint in their passion. He puts his hands back on the wheel, unbothered about how the jeep drifted into the other lane and nearly off the road.

"Psst," he hisses, gesturing to some unseen entity off to the side. Mikaela decides it's not her attention he wants, and looks away. "If you're wondering why the other mutants aren't up in arms about their kidnapped kids, Charles is actually keeping an eye on us through my fucked up head, and he knows this is something cupcake has to do, so he's leaving us to it."

Mikaela does a double-take. "Wait, really? I didn't even think about that."

"Yeah, it was a potential downfall of the author's story but luckily she thought of it on a readthrough," Deadpool informs her.

"Smart lady," Mikaela says, hesitant, unsure of how to reply.

"Nah, not really."

Mikaela spots something on the horizon and squints at it, leaning forward against the dashboard as if that will help. Then they drive past a dusty, rusted old sign lying on the ground informing them of their proximity to a town that used to have a name before the paint chipped off.

"We're getting close," she tells Deadpool. "How do you want to do this? Park outside town and sneak in?"

"Boring," he scoffs, waving a dismissive hand at her. "I was kind of considering driving through the front door with my theme tune playing in the background."

"That's fair," she replies diplomatically. "Give me a second and I'll see if there are any cameras on the inside."

She closes her eyes and presses her hand against the electronic radio in the jeep, knowing that sometimes a physical connection can boost her mutation's reach - although, there is nothing around them for miles, so any operating technology should be as easy to find as a light in the dark. She feels something on the edge of her reach and pushes her mind towards it, letting her consciousness wrap around the technology.

After a moment, she opens her eyes again. Reaching behind her into the back of the jeep, she pulls her backpack out from under Deadpool's weapons bag and brings it into her lap. She unzips it quickly and pulls out a small black box, opening it to reveal a piece of technology the size of a pea.

"What is that? It's adorable," the merc says.

"An earpiece," she replies, "for you. I'll let you go in first and follow behind you, but I'll have eyes on you through the cameras the whole time. I'll make sure there are no nasty surprises."

"Aww, but nasty surprises are the most fun," he whines, most likely pouting under his mask.

"You grow back limbs, you're fine," Mikaela tells him, "But if you suddenly can't wield your weapons anymore, I'll be pretty screwed."

"Did that gang never teach you self-defence?"

"I was their hacker, their laptop nerd, and a nine year old girl, they didn't think anybody would be coming after me."

"How irresponsible. If you ever want lessons, I charge two unicorn teddies an hour."

She nods absentmindedly, watching the hallways through the cameras. Protective of their subjects as they are, the organisation have cameras in the mutants' cellblock too. She clenches her jaw at the sight of the kids imprisoned like that. Her thirst for revenge has increased tenfold.

"I'm not usually one for physical confrontation," Mikaela replies, searching the hallways for Diez. "So after this stint, I don't think I'll be in desperate need for anything like that. Thanks, though."

"Or _will_ you?" Deadpool retorts dramatically. "Cliffhanger!"


	5. A Little Vacation

**In case anyone is wondering, I've condensed the timeline between all the films to suit Mikaela's age, so there's less time between each film to ensure she's around Peter's age when she meets him - just so it's not weird lol.**

 **(Edited to include my separation of the chapters into two bits)**

 **Chapter Five - A Little Vacation**

It has taken two whole years to get to this point; two years of chasing branch after branch of the organisation that teamed up with Diez's gang, eradicating every last member that ever heard a whisper of a rumour about the plans to kidnap and experiment on mutants. Two years to follow each strand to the edge of the world and back again. Two years to build up the evidence against members in high-ranking government positions, or to lure them into making the evidence they didn't already have. Two years to atone for the mistakes she'd made. Two _fucking_ years to find Diez.

Deadpool didn't stick around the entire time. Whenever he felt his skills weren't necessary, or when he desperately needed to return to his fiance, he would toddle off for a few weeks, leaving Mikaela to continue alone. She hadn't minded that; she often needed a break from him and his confusing, unpredictable, dangerous nature. She's developed a fair share of scars over the years, and has learned a lesson for every one - her cheek tells her not to say the "kill" word when DP is in a certain mood; her bicep tells her to always say her "please" and "thank you"s; her calf tells her to always, _always_ , buy whatever unicorn-themed product is on sale, whenever she lays eyes on it; and her back tells her to never walk over three drains consecutively - it's bad luck.

She has earned several more for several more mistakes, but some she has earned from her training. Deadpool had cut her a deal and told her she only had to pay him one unicorn-themed item every time he returned to the mission, and in return he trained her in knives and guns. It was thrilling, learning how to defend herself and how to go on the offensive, and she feels monumentally safer on her own now because of it. Of course, she has never had to be the one doing the killing, as Deadpool was always there and willing to do it for her.

Until now.

Now, Mikaela is walking through the halls of the most recent - and final, may she add - abandoned building she tied to Diez. They had tracked the few remaining perpetrators to this scabby building, and when she had spotted Diez sitting slumped at a desk, glaring at the camera in the corner, she had been overwhelmed with a chaos of emotions.

Her chest feels tight with excitement or terror, she's not quite sure which, as her trainers squelch in the pools of blood dribbling along the hallway. She steps over dismembered limbs and broken bodies, ignoring the stench of death, shit, and piss in the air. She can feel the cool metal of Deadpool's gun pressing against the small of her back, burning into her. Her eyes are glued to the last door on the left, unblinking and dry. This is the moment she has waited two fucking years for. This is the moment that Deadpool finally obliterates Diez.

She lifts a hand to touch the door frame as she turns into the room, drinking in the scene with wide eyes. Deadpool is sat on a stool, cleaning blood from his katanas. As usual, he sports a few wounds, some particularly gruesome, which are healing before her eyes. Then she looks to the right, and she sees him. She sees him on his knees, slouched over himself, his hands tied behind his back, blood dripping from his mouth, and honestly she could cry with happiness.

Deadpool spots her and jumps to his feet, sheathing his blades. "Hey, cupcake, you still got that gun I gave you?" he asks pleasantly, sauntering over to her.

"Oh, yeah. Thank you," she mutters distractedly, taking her hand off the door frame to remove the gun and give it to the merc. She has learned that "thank you"s go much further than "sorry"s do because they make him feel good about himself, whereas apologies make him feel bad, which he hates.

Deadpool chuckles. "No, no, no, cupcake. I've got a present for you, on this very special day," he tells her, drawing her eyes back to him as he presses the gun back into her hands. He moves behind her and lays guiding hands on her shoulders, moving her towards Diez. She waits for him to explain himself, knowing questioning him can lead to more scars. "Happy Kill An Asshole Day!" Deadpool cheers behind her once he deposits her at Diez's slumped body.

She blinks at the top of Diez's head, then turns to blink at Deadpool. "You want me to kill him," she says.

"Bingo!" he replies darkly, rubbing his hands together.

Mikaela feels the scar under her jaw tingle and she remembers one of her lessons: don't hesitate.

She adjusts her grip on the gun and flicks off the safety, lifting it to press against Diez's head. For the first time, he looks up at her, his eyes ablaze with hatred.

"I have to say, boss, I'm impressed," Mikaela tells him quietly, trying not to let her nerves seep into her voice. "You've done well."

"Don't fucking talk to me," Diez hisses, spitting blood onto the ground.

Mikaela's heart rate picks up and her head feels like it's spinning. Adrenaline is thrashing through her veins - she has the power over Diez, his life is in her hands, and it's as exhilarating as it is terrifying.

"Why? Because I'm a mutant? Or because we killed everyone in your fucked-up version of a family?" she taunts. Deadpool giggles quietly behind her, and she smirks in reply. It feels good to impress Deadpool.

"You gonna kill me, Mac, huh?" Diez snaps.

Mikaela's anger flashes through her at his use of her nickname. She is still just "cupcake" to Deadpool, he doesn't know her real name.

"Sure, she will," Deadpool answers for her. She feels him approach her from behind, speaking over her left shoulder. He brings his head in close to her ear. "It's easy, cupcake," he says lowly, "Just give it a little squeeze, and _pop_! No more Diez - simple as that," he finishes, cheerfully.

"You don't have the balls, do you, _cupcake_?" Diez spits, coughing on his blood. Mikaela's jaw clenches - only Deadpool calls her that. "At the end of the day, you're still that rotten little bitch I scraped off the sidewalk."

"God, he's so _unimaginative_ ," Deadpool whines, from her right shoulder this time. "Send an extra bullet into his skull from me, would ya?" He reaches down her right arm and cocks the gun, leaving her the tiny movement of squeezing the trigger.

She wants to. _God_ , does she want to. But throughout the entirety of their mission, her vision of this day consisted of sitting back and watching DP go to town on Diez, just really fucking the guy up. She never envisioned it being her standing here, with the gun against his head. Can she handle pulling the trigger? Can she live with a man's blood on her hands? Even a dirtbag like Diez? She doesn't know if she can figure it out fast enough to keep her companion complacent - if she spends too long thinking about it, she will definitely suffer, most likely die.

What would Stark think about her killing someone? What would Logan? Charles? Storm? Kitty?

"Cupcake," Deadpool sings in her ear, the undertone of threat creeping into his voice as he delivers the word through clenched teeth. "You're taking up too much space in the chapter," he whispers, "Hurry the fuck up and shoot this bastard."

"She can't kill me," Diez grunts, barking out a laugh that turns into a coughing fit.

"The guy kidnapped and tried to experiment on your friends. He captured innocent kids. Stop being a little bitch and pull the fucking trigger."

"Keep searching for more friends, but you'll never fit in, Mik-"

The sound of the bullet launching from the gun interrupts him before he can say her name. There's a sickening noise as it embeds itself between his eyes and he collapses backwards, blood already oozing from the wound as his eyeballs roll until only white shows.

Mikaela's face contorts in disgust, her gun-hand shaking, the other coming up to hold her neck as if to stop the rising bile. She blinks hard and looks away.

Immediately Deadpool has her chin gripped roughly in his fingers, lifting her head up again. "Oh, no, you don't, little cupcake," he cooes. "You make the decision to end a man's life, you gotta take responsibility and suffer the consequences. Don't back down now. _Look at him_."

Mikaela is more scared of the threat in his voice than the sight of Diez's corpse in front of her. So she does as Deadpool says and looks down at what she has done.

"That's it," the merc encourages, taking his fingers away from her chin and landing them on her shoulders. "Beautiful, cupcake, just beautiful." He lets out a huge exhale and claps his hands together, and she knows he's smiling under his mask.

She frowns down at the person she killed, finally lowering the gun to her side. Diez deserved to die, she knows he did; but she feels like there's a dark patch on her soul now, and staring at his corpse is only going to make this memory more retrievable for nightmares. She fights the bile that rises again, struggling to appear as unbothered as she can in front of DP. The blood from Diez's wound has trickled onto the floor now and is spreading out into a circle around him. She stares at his chest, waiting for it to rise with an inhale, but he is completely motionless.

Deadpool walks over to him and kicks him in the side. "Dead bodies are so hilarious, don't you think?" he muses. "Lifeless sacks of meat. You know, this may come as a surprise, but I've never actually cooked one to see what it would taste like, despite what the voices say."

Mikaela tilts her head to the side, his comment seeming to ground her somehow. Diez was violently anti-mutant, even going so far as to aid an organisation in capturing innocent children to be experimented on like rats. Yeah, he really fucking deserved to die, and a part of her, she realises, is actually glad that she's the one who got to end his miserable life.

"I wouldn't start now," she replies to Deadpool, "He'd taste like shit." When he hums in agreement, she holds the gun out to him. "Here you go. Thank you for that."

He stares at her for a moment, tapping a gloved finger to his masked chin thoughtfully. "Nah, don't worry about it, cupcake. I got plenty. You keep that one."

She laughs bitterly. "I'm not falling for that again, DP. Take it, I don't want slashed."

He approaches her and places a hand on her shoulder, and she can feel the sincerity in his touch. "I'm serious, kid. Keep it, it's yours now." She frowns up at him, slowly bringing the gun back to her body. "So you can always remember what you did here today." He gives her a scolding look. "Now, you killed a man, cupcake. If you toss that gun away, you disrespect your decision, you run away from your responsibilities."

She nods slowly. "I'm not afraid anymore," she realises. Switching the safety back on, she tucks the gun into the back of her jeans, relishing in the pride she can feel coming off of her companion.

"Atta girl!" he cheers, throwing his hands into the air. "Okay, now that this mission is done: first, I want my money; second, I wanna go home and plough my fiance; and, third, I wanna get you drunk. So, let's go."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Fuck," Mikaela hisses, her head in her hands.

"Yeah, you missed a tonne of shit," Vanessa laughs.

Despite the warmth in her chest and the way she can't feel her cheeks, Mikaela feels fucking awful.

"I wanted to tell you, cupcake, but you said you wanted to stay focused on the mission," Deadpool shrugs.

Mikaela's face scrunches up so much it hurts, and she lets her head loll backwards. "Fuuuuckkkkk," she groans.

"Okay, this isn't what you want for your first time drunk," Vanessa says. "Ignore all that, ignore them, just drink and talk shit with us."

"I bet Stark hates me," Mikaela says matter-of-factly, dropping her head back into place as she purses her lips. She contains the burp that attempts to burst from her throat. "He definitely hates me."

"Who gives a shit? You said it was his fault Diez found the school," Deadpool retorts, taking another drink.

" _I_ give a shit!" she whines, stomping her glass on the table. The alcohol inside sloshes around and spills over the top onto her fingers. She sloppily sucks them dry, making Vanessa laugh, and runs her other hand through her hair. "The guy's like… like a…" she trails off, gesturing wildly.

"If you say 'like a dad to me' I'm gonna punch you in the throat," Deadpool warns.

Mikaela scowls at him. "No, ew." She shakes her head, takes a drink. "I mean, I dunno."

"You've met him like three times," Deadpool sighs.

" _You've_ met him three times," she grumps.

"Yes, you're right," he replies sarcastically.

"Don't be so hard on her, she's got daddy issues just like the rest of us," Vanessa says, downing the rest of her drink. "I'm going up for another round."

When she rises and walks away, it takes Deadpool a moment to turn his gaze back to Mikaela. "Listen, cupcake, I'd like to think that I've been more of a mentor to you than-"

"Are you kidding?" she exclaims, leaning over the table towards him. "DP, you've been the bestest mentor _ever_! I killed-" she shouts, but cuts herself off to repeat herself in a whisper, "I killed a guy!" she hisses.

"You don't have to whisper, the guys here kill for a living, dipshit," he laughs.

She slumps back in her seat, throwing her hands up. "Well, I did. I killed a guy. And you got me there. _You_. You got me there." She burps again and finishes the rest of her drink.

"Yeah, well, it's just a natural milestone everyone needs to reach at some point in their lives. I'm just helping the local youth get there."

She props her elbow on the table and leans her chin in her hand. "Wade, do you know what's wrong with me?" she asks.

His eyes widen slightly, his mouth hanging open. "Uhhh, maybe that's a question best asked of oneself, rather than one's hired killer."

"It's a mystery," she shrugs, trying to drink from her glass again until she realises it's empty.

"You know what I think, kid?" Deadpool leans in, surprisingly gentle. "I think, deep down, you just need to feel loved."

Mikaela's hands drop to the table, gawping at him. "I need to throw up."


	6. Reunited

**made a good point that the last chapter was quite short, so I figured I'd go ahead and give y'all another one! By the way, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favourited, I love love love getting all the emails with the notifications, and the reviews have been sooo nice! Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. So keep it up!**

 **I'm writing chapter eleven right now, so I'm doing well with making sure I have plenty of chapters in between to post in case I'm hitting a blank! Go me.**

 **Anyway, I have a job interview tomorrow so keep me in your thoughts 3**

 **Enjoy xo**

 **(Edited to include my separation of the chapter into two bits)**

 **Chapter Six - Reunited**

Mikaela wakes up shivering on one of the soft couches in Avengers Tower's recreational area. It's 6:17am precisely, and the sun is blasting through the massive windows lining the side of the building. She groans, rolling onto her side to press her face into the cushions, clutching at the locus of agony on top of her neck. She has never, in her life, felt this terrible before. The light is painful, the noise of her own groan worse, but the pounding her brain is taking beats everything else by lightyears.

Cool steel presses against the back of her head, and a low voice commands, "Name."

"JARVIS," Mikaela grunts into the cushions.

"Cute," the voice replies. The gun is cocked and pressed harder against her. "Try again."

Mikaela exhales, turning her face towards the ceiling, taking a moment to find her mutation. She lets JARVIS see her. "J, a little help," she mumbles.

"Ah, Miss Romanoff, this individual is not a threat to you or the team," his English accent swoops in.

Far too loudly.

Mikaela covers her ears, groaning again. "No need to shout, Jesus Christ," she hisses.

"You know this girl?" Romanoff asks, removing the gun from Mikaela's head.

"As well as one can, given the circumstances," JARVIS replies. "Though I have not seen her for two years."

"Road trip," Mikaela mutters, rolling onto her back and flinging her forearm over her eyes.

"What is she, some long lost kid of Stark's?" Romanoff quips.

"Ha!" Mikaela scoffs. "He wishes."

"I honestly could not tell you," JARVIS says, sounding amused.

"How old are you?" The Black Widow asks her.

Mikaela gestures vaguely. "I don't know, thirteen? Fourteen?" Her face contorts in concentration. "Fourteen. I think."

"What are you, Scottish?"

"Yes, why do you have so many questions?" Mikaela whines.

"Get ready for some more, shithead," a new voice announces when an elevator swishes open.

Mikaela rubs her eyes for a moment so that she can gather herself. She doesn't remember making the decision to come here - she doesn't remember much of anything from last night - and she kind of feels like, in hindsight, it is a bad idea. Why would she _want_ to be here?

"Didn't think I'd see you again after you set my own suit against me and stormed outta my house like a crazy person," he says, his words sharp and tense.

She forces herself to sit up, running a hand through her hair as she finally makes eye contact with him. His jaw is clenched, and when his eyes catch the scar on her cheek, he turns his back on her and heads to the bar.

"Some people came after the school and captured a bunch of kids," Mikaela sighs, the memory still making her sick with guilt. "The school is well shielded, and you had - for some reason - insisted on finding it around the same time they attacked."

"However well you think your school is shielded, JARVIS is ten times better than that. There is no way someone got the location through me," he tells her from the bar.

Mikaela glances at Romanoff, blended in to the background but still paying full attention. She then looks to Stark as he returns from the bar, carrying a glass of water with some ice cubes. She frowns at him, guilt twisting her stomach again. It only gets worse when he hands her the glass and sits on the couch opposite her.

"Yeah, I know," she replies eventually, rubbing the back of her neck. She looks down into her glass. "I'm sorry."

He clears his throat, but doesn't say anything. For a moment, it's silent.

"And I'm also sorry for missing out on… everything," she concedes.

When she looks up at him, he's frowning at her. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"I mean all the shit that happened," she says, straightening up. "Pepper… the aliens." Her chest tightens at the memory of the footage she watched. "You flew through a portal into space and you almost didn't make it back," she says quietly.

He blinks. "It was the only thing to do."

Mikaela swallows and looks away, unsure of what she's even trying to say to the guy.

"Where the hell were you?" he asks suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest as he shrugs. He's not angry, but he's certainly not happy.

"I had to fix it," she says, softer than she expected. She is hyper aware of the gun still in her backpack at her feet.

"What do you mean? Did you rescue the kids?" he asks.

Mikaela nods. "And I made sure it wouldn't happen again."

He glances at Romanoff, frowning. "Okay, and what the hell does that mean?"

Mikaela shakes her head and takes a drink, cherishing the freezing-cold liquid as she gulps it down. She puts the glass on the floor by her backpack and looks back at Stark. He's still waiting on an answer. "We had to get rid of the people behind it," she says.

" _We_?" he repeats, his eyebrows lifting questioningly. "Who is _we_?"

Mikaela is starting to feel uncomfortable. She doesn't want to tell him all of this shit, she doesn't _have_ to, so why the fuck is she going to? "I hired a merc."

"Jesus Christ," he hisses, throwing a frustrated hand in the air. "You were with a goddamn _mercenary_ for two years?" he exclaims. "And, what, you went around killing the people who took those kids?" He is angry now, for sure.

Mikaela can feel herself getting defensive. "Well, he did most of the killing, but fuck yeah we did," she retorts.

Stark's face falls. "What?" he mutters. " _Most_? Did you say he did _most_ of the killing?"

Mikaela glances at Romanoff, at the unreadable expression on her face, before she looks back to Stark, and the way he looks like his world has just crumbled. It almost makes her feel guilty for a moment, but she is used to justifying this to herself by now. She has to own it, to take responsibility for it.

"The people who captured those kids, it was a collaboration between an organisation intent on experimenting on mutants, and my old gang, led by a shithead called Diez. The last time I had seen him he promised he would end me and called me an abomination. He was scum."

Stark just breathes for a moment, watching her. "You killed him?" he asks quietly, although it's more of a statement.

Mikaela refuses to break eye contact, refuses to back down. But, for some reason, she can't give him a straight answer. Maybe it's the pain in his eyes. "They've all been dealt with, every last one of them," she says instead.

"Did your mutant friends know about this?" he asks after a silence.

"I think they were keeping tabs on us through DP," she supplies.

He stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks aimlessly away from the couches. "Yeah, they never told me about that," he mutters.

Mikaela stands up as well, frowning at his back. "What do you mean?"

He looks over his shoulder at her with mock ignorance. "What? Oh, well, when you left, I strangely felt a little concerned for my safety and that of your own, and it only grew after a whole year of nothing from you, so I got in contact with your friends. They told me you were fine. They didn't tell me you were on a murderous rampage," he snaps, his lips twisting in anger.

Mikaela refuses to feel guilty about that. "Mutant business," she shrugs.

He turns to face her fully and paces towards her. "Why didn't you ask for help, Ghost? We could have taken care of it and you could've-"

"Could have what?" she retorts, scowling up at him as she takes a step closer. "Stayed hidden like a coward? Refused to take responsibility and let everyone else face the consequences of my actions?" He tries to say something but she cuts him off. "Stark, if I hadn't pissed Diez off in the first place, none of this would have ever happened. Those kids wouldn't be traumatised now. Some of them were _eight_ years old, for fuck's sake! We're lucky Deadpool and I got to them as soon as we did - you have _no_ idea how fucking horrible humans can be to us."

His lips are pursed, his eyes wide with anger. When he speaks, his voice is quiet but harsh. "Maybe I don't. But _you_ don't need that kind of blood on your hands. You're a kid, Ghost."

"I'm not, though, am I?" she frowns. He clenches his jaw and looks away. "I haven't been a kid since I was four years old and my mutation first showed itself."

Mikaela is hardly aware of the other inhabitants of the tower. Some of them might even be in the room now, but she barely even has the energy to focus on Stark alone. Her headache has gotten even worse with her anger and their fight; she just wants to go to sleep for the next week.

He glances at her cheek again and gestures at his own. "What's this?" he asks.

Mikaela doesn't want to tell him that Deadpool gave her it during one of his mood swings. She doesn't need Stark flying off to confront the mercenary who can grow back any limb that gets blown off.

"Occupational hazard," she shrugs. "I'm sure you have a few of your own."

He scoffs, but he is not amused. "Trying to play the hero?"

She rolls her eyes. "I told you I'm in the grey area."

"You might wanna check that, looks like it's getting a little darker," he retorts, bitter.

Mikaela just looks at him, shaking her head. "As if you haven't killed people to protect your friends-"

"What I do is bigger than that," he cuts in angrily.

Mikaela throws her hands up in disbelief. "I was protecting my species, same as you!" she snaps at him. "These people are ruthless and relentless! If we didn't get rid of them, they would have come back at us ten times harder!"

"There are other ways to go about these things," he argues. "Ways that don't end with you killing someone!"

"They were everywhere, Stark, they were in the fucking governments!" she shouts. "This was the only way!"

"No," he mutters harshly, pointing at her, " _You_ didn't have to go. _You_ didn't have to kill a man."

Mikaela brings her hands to her face to clutch it, struggling to contain her anger and frustration. She moves them up into her hair, exhaling, then lets them drop to her sides. She looks at him, and shakes her head, deflated. "Why do you care?" she breathes out, her chest tight.

He watches her silently for another moment, before he bites out, "Beats the shit out of me, kid. Why did you come back?"

She scowls at him, almost angry that he doesn't know why; but she doesn't even know herself. "Beats the shit out of me," she spits. A glance away from him tells her that they've drawn an audience. "Next time I feel the impulse, I'll ignore it," she mutters, incapable of making eye contact with him anymore. She picks up her backpack, the weight reminding her again of the gun, and throws it over her shoulder. She chances a look at Romanoff, who is frowning between the two of them, before Mikaela walks away from them both. She can feel the eyes burning into her as she passes the bodies mulling around, but she refuses to look up. The elevator pings open, waiting for her, and she steps inside, staring at the floor as the doors close behind her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day, Mikaela walks up the long driveway leading to Xavier's school. She can hear the shouts and laughter of kids playing on the grounds, and it only brings her mood down further. She feels numb after her fight with Stark. She feels numb because she doesn't know what to do with herself now. She feels numb because she doesn't know who she is, what her purpose is. She had a purpose with Deadpool, hunting down the people who attacked the school, for two years. Then she killed Diez and suddenly it was all over - the fear, the caution, the anger, the mission for revenge. She told Stark she was protecting her species, but Mikaela wonders how true that is, whether it was actually all just self-preservation.

When she comes to the big wooden doors, she stops, staring at the intricate carvings. What if it _had_ all been self-preservation? What if the reason she never fits in anywhere is because she is literally incapable of building connections with people? What if Stark was right, and the grey area she inhabits is growing darker? What if it doesn't stop growing darker? What is she going to become?

She is considering turning away when the door swings open, revealing a stony-faced Logan, sporting one of his infamous scowls. She looks up at him, just breathing, waiting for him to come at her with some biting remark.

"You coming in?" he asks instead.

She takes a moment to look around her, at the sunshine and happiness. Then she looks back at him, and she sees someone who fits in as poorly as she does. "Am I still welcome?" she asks in reply, figuring that they must all know by now.

"Yeah, kid," he says gently, stepping aside to give her space.

She pulls her bag strap further up her shoulder and nods, before she steps inside.

"Mikaela?" a woman's voice asks, and she looks to see Storm descending the staircase. "Oh my God, look at the size of you," the white-haired woman chuckles.

Mikaela attempts a smile back at her, her chest tightening at the knowledge that _they must all know_. Storm comes to stand in front of her, smiling gently, and runs her thumb over the scar on Mikaela's cheek.

"The Professor wanted to see us when you got back," Logan says from behind them.

They walk to his office, Logan leading the way while Storm follows closely at Mikaela's side. Her chest feels tighter with every step, wondering what kind of conversation is waiting for her behind those doors. She doesn't have the energy to fight anymore.

When they enter, Mikaela sees that Scott and Jean are standing at the Professor's desk, while the man himself is sat behind it. They smile at her when she looks at them, but she still feels massively uneasy. Logan closes the door behind them and leans against it, crossing his arms. Storm stays at Mikaela's side, while Scott and Jean move over so that the Professor can see everyone. _They must all know._

"Welcome back, Mikaela," the Professor says kindly. "It's good to see you again."

Mikaela glances at their faces. "It is?" she replies in a poor attempt at humour.

Jean smiles sympathetically at her. "You don't need to worry, Mikaela. Yes, we all know what happened, but that doesn't change anything."

"Obviously it would have been better if that shithead had just done it himself," Logan mutters from behind them.

Mikaela glances at him before looking back to the Professor. "Wade said you'd been keeping an eye on us through him?"

Charles nods. "It wasn't a particularly pleasant experience, being inside his mind, but we had to make sure you were safe. It was the only thing stopping me from sending Logan out for you."

"When we saw what he did to you," Storm speaks up, shaking her head, "We almost did send Logan. But you learned how to handle Wade, so we knew you were on top of it."

Mikaela nods slowly. "And Diez?" she asks reluctantly.

Scott clears his throat. "We don't think it should have been you," he says, glancing at Jean. "But," he shrugs, "It needed to be done. The guy was relentless."

The tightness in Mikaela's chest explodes all of a sudden, and warmth fills her. She feels a smile grow on her face and her eyes sting with tears, and she knows that she has nothing to worry about. These people are as close to a family as she'll ever get. "Thank you," she says sincerely. "I'm glad someone understands."

The Professor comes around his desk towards her. He takes a hand in both of his, holding it close. "You are a good person, Mikaela. There are children here who have continued to grow and laugh and live because of you. They didn't suffer nightmares because they knew that you were going to stop the organisation."

Mikaela blinks and clears her throat. "I'm not a good person, Professor," she replies quietly, thinking of her time with the gang.

"Our pasts do not define us," he tells her. "You have grown since you first stepped through my doors. You have changed lives, for the better, since you stepped through my doors. Do not doubt yourself," he says, looking at her knowingly. "Open yourself up, Mikaela; _let them in_."

Later, when Mikaela is back in her old room, in awe that they kept it free for her, she sits on her bed contemplating their discussion. She is comfortable in herself now knowing that these people do mean something to her, and that she means something to them. It's not magically solved all of her socialising problems, nor has it given her a new purpose in life, but she knows now that she is capable of building connections with people, she's just bad at maintaining them.

It makes her wonder about Stark, though. She blinks slowly, focusing her mind as her eyes turn grey. She finds Stark in his room at the Tower, and is surprised to find him watching the footage of their fight. His phone is projecting it into the air, and when she starts to walk out, he rewinds it back to when he leaves the elevator. She watches him watch it three times, looking at the tension in his face and body, the way his knuckles are white from clutching his hair. At one point, he pauses the footage and zooms in on her face, looking at the scar on her cheek. And then he spots the one under her jaw, and he swipes his hand angrily, making the phone stop projecting.

Mikaela takes herself out of the Tower and returns to the school, blinking away the grey in her eyes. She runs a hand over her face, exhaling. Maybe she should try to repair that.


	7. Artificial Intelligence

**Reply to Messy Ink's review: that is a very good point. Mikaela didn't stop the vans because I simply did not think of that. My bad hahaha. Can't believe I didn't think of that. Also, yeah, Mikaela is eventually going to be more powerful than she is now, but she'll still have limits and not all aspects of what I've read about technopathy will come into play in her character. I hope you still enjoy it!**

 **(Edited to include my separation of the chapter into two bits)**

 **Chapter Seven - Artificial Intelligence**

Mikaela walks down the street, a half-eaten hot dog in her hand and a pink baseball cap on her head with the words "Heck the system" sewn into it in black lettering. She watches the world through sunglasses, chewing happily on her meat and bun, humming a tune to herself. Skipping across the road before a car can hit her, she saunters along the pavement towards a white van with tinted windows.

The passenger door opens for her and she pulls herself one-handed onto the seat, flashing a charming smile. "Howdy," she greets.

The man drops his binoculars into his lap and gawps at her. "What are you doing in here? Who are you?" he scrambles.

Mikaela frowns at him. "I'm sorry, I thought you liked fourteen year old girls?"

His driver door opens and Deadpool appears at his side. "Hi! The name's Deadpool, I'll be your waiter this lovely evening. If you would kindly move over a little."

The man's mouth opens and closes like a fucking fish, until he clamps it shut when he sees that Mikaela has her gun on him. She grins and gestures the gun, encouraging him to sit himself in between the driver and passenger seats. He whimpers pathetically, doing as he is bid, and Deadpool hops into the driver's seat.

"Aw, dang it, you had time for a hot dog?" Deadpool whines when he looks at Mikaela.

"Sure did," she replies, taking another bite. "Here, you have the rest," she offers around her mouthful. She stretches her arm around the fat, panicky man to hand Deadpool the dog, making sure to lean into the man with her gun as she does so.

He whimpers again, sweat trailing down his temple. Deadpool giggles like a little girl and removes his mask to eat the rest of the dog, giving the man a wink when he exclaims in horror at the sight of DP's skin.

Mikaela pushes her gun into his side, scowling at him over her sunglasses. "Don't be rude or I'll shoot your sweaty balls off."

The man clenches his eyes shut at that and purses his lips, shaking. Deadpool rolls his eyes at his cowardice, sucking the sauce off his fingertips noisily.

"So, Gordon," Deadpool begins, clapping his hands together. "You've been a naughty boy. But not in a fun way."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gordon tries weakly.

Mikaela snorts. "Not doing a great job of convincing us there, Glenn."

"Listen, dickbag, you've got two choices: one, my little friend here goes to the cops with what she knows; or, two, I chop up your dick like a carrot, I boil it up in a nice dick-carrot stew, and I go ahead and feed it to you," Deadpool informs him. "So, what'll it be?"

Gordon glances between them, although he's barely able to make eye contact with DP and he's making too much of an effort in not looking at Mikaela. Sweaty, smelly, and shaking, his voice trembles when he answers, "Uh, the cops? Please? The cops?"

Deadpool groans loudly and drops his head back against the seat. "God damnit. I never get to cut their dicks up anymore," he mutters.

Mikaela tilts her head to the side, having already compiled all the information she had on the pervert before sending it on to the local police. "You could always cut him up a _little_ bit?" she suggests innocently.

"What? No! You gave me a choice!" Gordon exclaims.

"A courtesy you rarely extend to your victims," Mikaela retorts, jabbing him in the side with the barrel of her gun. "Not that they'd ever be old enough to make that choice." Her anger and disgust is spiking. "You know what, DP? Cut his dick off. He should have lost it long ago."

"Really?" Deadpool asks, perking up significantly.

"They're only a few minutes out, so he'll survive to rot in jail. At least, until the moment someone shivs him."

Gordon is crying now, and begging too, but it just makes him more disgusting in her eyes. Mikaela hits him in the face with her gun, drawing blood amazingly fast, and turns to open her door, sliding out onto the pavement. She slips her gun back into the waistband of her jeans and closes the door behind her, smiling pleasantly at a woman who makes eye contact with her.

She walks around to the other side of the van and leans against it, frowning across the street at the busy playpark. The van shakes behind her half a heartbeat before muffled screams erupt from within, and she breathes deeply, relishing in the justice. Only when the screams stop does Deadpool let himself out, his mask securely back over his face.

"Passed out?" Mikaela deduces.

"Yup. I stomped on his dick in case they wanted to sew it back on; that thing has been obliterated," Deadpool replies.

"Nice," she smirks, pushing herself off the van and across the street.

Deadpool saunters beside her, undoing a wedgie as he starts to hum a cheerful song. They mount the pavement on the other side of the street and follow the perimeter of the playpark round a corner and down that street towards their awaiting vehicle. Climbing into the car, they greet Vanessa, who sits behind the wheel.

"Let's get the shit outta here," Deadpool says, leaning over to kiss her cheek through his mask.

As they drive away, Mikaela closes her eyes to double check their presence has been eradicated from nearby CCTV cameras. "We're all good," she tells them, opening her eyes again.

"Hey, cupcake, you wanna come get drunk with us?" Deadpool asks, twisting around to look at her on the back seat.

"I would love to, but unfortunately you'll need to drop me off at the bus station. I need to go see Stark," Mikaela replies.

"Ugh, why? I thought you two were done?"

"Yeah, well, he's decided he wants to fuck around with artificial intelligence, the dumb shit."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As soon as she walks through the front doors of Avengers Tower, Mikaela lets JARVIS see her. This way, Stark will have the opportunity to tell her to piss off, if he's so inclined. She figures he deserves the option after the way they left things.

"Hello, can I help you?" a pleasant voice asks.

Mikaela turns and smiles tensely at the man behind the desk. "I'm not sure yet," she admits as she approaches him. "I'd like to see Mr Stark, but it depends on whether _he_ wants to see _me_."

The secretary frowns at her. "Oh, I see. Do you have an appointment?"

"No, this is a spontaneous visit of a personal and berating nature," she replies.

His mouth twitches in amusement, but he otherwise retains a professional countenance. "I will inquire as to Mr Stark's preference," he tells her.

"Thanks," she mutters, turning her gaze to look around the lobby.

The last time she came in here, she was so drunk she doesn't remember, and the last time she left, she was in such a state that she frankly did not care to look around. The lobby is minimalistic but elegant, with the secretary's desk and a small waiting area. Some subtle shrubbery lines the wall by the elevators and a large fish tank sits in the middle of the room, but it is otherwise scant.

"Oh," the secretary suddenly blurts.

When Mikaela looks at him, he has a shocked expression on his face as he holds his fingers to his earpiece. It is as if he never expected the person speaking to him to be speaking to _him_. He listens for a moment, nods, and then smiles pleasantly at her.

"Mr Stark is awaiting you in his lab on floor-"

"I know which floor it is, thank you," she interrupts, waving dismissively.

She walks over to one of the elevators and the doors swish open for her, having been waiting for her as soon as she entered the building. It's the simple things about her mutation that she enjoys most: not waiting on elevators, being able to turn off the TV without having to remember where she put the remote, those kinds of things.

She steps inside the elevator and twists round to watch the doors close, the secretary's curious eyes watching her through the diminishing gap. When she is alone, she sighs and rubs her hands together uneasily. She has no idea how this interaction is going to go after the mess of the last one, especially since she's here to call out Stark's arrogance and stupidity in aspiring for artificial intelligence. _Why_ would he think this is a good idea?

"Hello again, Miss Ghost," JARVIS' voice greets her.

"You don't need to do the whole "Miss" thing, J," she replies, "It sounds weird with my shitty codename."

"As you wish."

"So, any idea what's going to happen in the next five minutes?" she jokes weakly.

"I think even I could not predict that."

She takes a deep breath again, muttering a "Yeah" quietly.

The elevator slows to a stop and the doors swish open again. Mikaela steps out and has a look around the recreational area for any new faces, but sees only Stark in his lab above. She knows he must know she's arrived, but he doesn't look down at her. He just continues with his work as if she's not there. She feels her chest tighten and sighs again, fed up of the feeling.

As she walks to the lab, she reminds herself of why she's here so that she is worked up enough to forget about her anxiety. He wants to create artificial intelligence, and that is damn stupid.

She walks in and opens her mouth to speak, but he beats her to it.

"So much for ignoring the impulse," he comments, not looking up from his work.

Mikaela shakes her head and brushes past it. "What the hell are you doing, Stark?"

"Oh, are we telling each other what we're up to now?" he quips. "I thought we didn't have that kind of relationship."

"Come on, Stark, I'm serious," she frowns at his back, moving closer to him. "This is incredibly dangerous and stupid."

He twists his body to look round at her and replies sarcastically, "Wow, really? So, if something's dangerous, I shouldn't do it? Like, say, I don't know, hiring an insane mercenary and going on some secret mission to kill a tonne of people?"

He turns back to his work and Mikaela bites her tongue. She tells herself she doesn't have the time to react to his bitterness and she needs to focus on why she came here. But, _man_ , does she want to scream at him.

"You're trying to make something that will be much colder and more calculating than I am," she says instead.

"Okay, cool, maybe _it_ won't make stupid decisions," he retorts.

Mikaela's fists clench and she storms over to his side, fuming. "Stark, you have _no_ idea what kind of personality this thing will have! It could take one look at humans and think, "You know what, _they're_ the problem, I should do away with them!"" she snaps.

He drops his equipment on the table noisily and stands up straight, looking down at her stubbornly. "Yeah, but it could also take one look at humans and think "These things are weak and naive, I should really do everything I can to protect them!"" he challenges.

"You can't take that risk!" she insists.

"There were _aliens_ coming through a goddamn space portal over New York City, Ghost!" he shouts at her. " _Aliens_! We only survived because of that sceptre," he points at the sceptre she recognises from footage of the fight. "What if that's not enough next time? What if _we're_ not enough?"

Mikaela deflates in the face of his argument. She can see where he's coming from, and she wants to empathise with him; but he is making a huge mistake and nothing will change her mind on that. She wishes she could side with him, seeing how much the concept means to him and how he truly believes it's the right thing to do. She hates the way they always end up fighting, the way they can't seem to just get along for five minutes.

"Uh, Tony," a timid voice says from the entrance to the lab. Mikaela glances over to see Bruce Banner, standing uneasily with his hands gripping each other. "I thought I'd come up to check on things before we get ready for the party."

Stark sighs and turns away from her, tapping away at his instruments. "Uh, yeah, we've still got a long way to go," he replies.

Nobody says anything for a moment. Banner is looking between the two of them apprehensively, Stark is avoiding all eye contact, and Mikaela is boring holes into the side of his head.

"This is a _bad_ idea, Stark," she says, breaking the silence.

He looks at her sharply. "You gonna shut it down, Ghost, huh?" he challenges.

Mikaela chews on her lip, considering. There is no doubt that she _could_ , but _would_ she?

"See, I don't think you will, you wanna know why?" Stark continues. "Because you pride yourself on not interfering with things, because, as you said, who needs that shit on their shoulders? Besides, you know that I could be right."

"But you could as easily be wrong," she persists. "Just because there's a chance it could work doesn't mean you should do it. The alternative outcome would be catastrophic."

"If it goes wrong, we'll handle it," he tells her determinedly.

"An artificial intelligence?" she scoffs. "Don't bullshit me. If this goes wrong, you're going to need help and you're going to come straight to me."

"Would you turn me away?" he asks, no longer retorting or challenging, but genuinely asking.

Mikaela clenches her jaw and looks at him. She watches the way his eyes search her own, and she hates him for it. "No," she replies simply.

"Sorry, uh, Ghost, is it?" Banner interjects. Mikaela looks over to him, nodding. "Who exactly are you? Tony told us you're a mutant, after you were here last time, but that's all we got out of him. Who are you to him?"

Mikaela moves away from Stark to lean against a different table. "Just a kid that broke into his home to see if he was a mutant as well," she shrugs.

Banner frowns at them, watching Stark as he fiddles about with his back to them. "But, I mean, do you know him _well_? Are you close?"

Mikaela pouts as she considers his question. "Not especially," she admits.

His frown deepens. "Seriously?" he asks disbelievingly. "Because your fights are so… high-emotion."

Mikaela glances over at Stark, catching him watching her out of the corner of her eye. "I don't know what to tell you," she says, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"She got under my skin," Stark announces suddenly, surprising Mikaela and Banner. He turns around, crossing his arms over his chest, and looks at Banner. "Don't ask me how because I have no idea. But, for some reason, I care now," he finishes, looking at her awkwardly at the end.

Mikaela's heart is in her throat. She has no fucking idea how she's supposed to react. She wants to cringe at his admission, the way she would cringe at Diez, but instead a warmth fills her chest, so strong it threatens to warm her face as well. She looks away, clearing her throat, and scrambles for the right words. Her natural instinct is to retort sarcastically or make fun of him, but she knows that would be wrong.

"Uh, well, I guess, you know," she mutters, scratching at the back of her head. "I guess I would kind of have to say the same thing," she manages, shrugging. "I, uh, I care now too."

She can feel Stark watching her, but she can't bring herself to look at him. Charles told her to open herself up and "let them in", but he didn't warn her how damn hard and uncomfortable that would be.

Banner shifts awkwardly, reading the room. "Okay, well, I'm Dr Bruce Banner," he supplies.

Mikaela nods at him. "Nice to meet you, Banner."

"Nice to meet you too, Ghost," he smiles friendlily. "Listen, Tony, we should get ready for the party."

"Yeah," Stark replies distractedly. Banner smiles at her once more before he leaves to go downstairs.

"I'll notify you if there are any developments," JARVIS says.

"Thanks, buddy," Stark sighs, as the lights begin to turn off and the glass walls tint. "C'mon, Ghost," he says, gesturing for her.

Mikaela follows him out of the lab, wondering where they stand now after their newest argument and admission. "Listen, Stark, I don't mean to be-"

"Just stop, please, for a minute," Stark cuts in, holding up a hand. "All we do is argue, it's exhausting."

Mikaela detects a hint of amusement in his voice and allows a smirk. "Well, if you weren't so _stupid_ ," she trails off, shrugging.

Stark gives her a look, but he isn't angry anymore. "Yeah, _I'm_ the stupid one."

"Oh, hey, is this the long-lost daughter nobody's told me about?" a woman asks suddenly.

Mikaela and Stark halt, looking ahead of them to see a cluster of Avengers, including Maria Hill, who had spoken. Banner is amongst them, looking apologetic as if he had tried to clear the group out of the way before the two of them came down. Mikaela looks around at Steve Rogers, Thor, Romanoff, and Barton, meeting their curious and cloaked gazes. She knows that Romanoff and Banner know she isn't Stark's child, but Hill seems to believe it, and she has no idea where that has come from. When Stark moves closer to her and she feels something like protectiveness coming off of him, Mikaela figures it's best to go along with whatever is happening.

"Yeah," Stark answers. "I was just walking her out."

"I'm Maria Hill," the woman smiles. "What's your name?"

Mikaela remembers what Charles told her that day in his office, and she glances up at the side of Stark's face, knowing it was stupid to ever hide her name from him. His mouth opens to reply for her, but she cuts in quickly.

"Mikaela," she says, smiling back. Stark looks at her, and she can tell from his expression that he's caught on to what's happening. "My name is Mikaela."

"Why aren't you coming to the party tonight?" Hill asks.

Stark finally looks away from Mikaela. "There will be drink," he blurts, "And lots of people. Plus, you know, it'll be her bedtime soon."

"Fuck off," Mikaela retorts, her face contorting in a scowl as she glares up at him.

"Language!" Stark chirps, clearly now enjoying the pretence of authority he has over her. "Mr Rogers over here doesn't like profanities."

The group chuckles as Rogers sighs, giving Stark a look. It is clearly some inside joke at his expense, but Mikaela doesn't have the context.

"C'mon, Stark, let her come," Romanoff speaks up, smirking deviously. "It'll be fun."

"It'd be great to get to know her," Rogers agrees, smiling at Mikaela.

Mikaela hears Stark groan quietly, clearly against the idea. "I'd love to hang out," she tells him, smiling innocently up at him.

"Only because I don't want you to," he retorts.

"That's harsh, man," Barton puts in.

Stark rolls his eyes and gestures defeatedly. "Alright, fine. But she's not my responsibility."

"She's your daughter," Hill reminds him.

Mikaela watches as the rest of the group hides smirks or looks guilty, and she knows that Hill is the only person who thinks Mikaela is just some bastard child of Stark's. But why?


	8. Ultron

**Hi guys, sorry for the whole messy chapter yesterday! I have no idea how it ended up riddled with all that code :S Here's attempt number two! ALSO, I only just realised that the lines I've been putting into my chapters to separate them into two bits have for some reason been deleted when I upload the document to the story!:)))))) I'm so sorry the chapters haven't been what they should be because of that! I can't believe you all still enjoyed the chapters despite the weird way they must have felt without the separating lines! I've gone back and sorted all the chapters before this one and will definitely be making sure all future chapters are formatted the way I want them before publishing! Sorry again for the mess of yesterday and today:(  
**

 **Next Tuesday I start my first full time job and I wanted to give you all a heads up because it means I'll have a lot less time to write my stories. So, updates might come a little less frequently from now on, but I promise they** ** _will_** **keep coming! I love my characters and my stories and I am in no way stopping writing for them. I will just be delayed in updating.**

 **Anyway, shit's about to hit the fan with Mikaela here - I hope you enjoy!**

 **Chapter Eight - Ultron**

Since Mikaela is fourteen years old, no one can lend her any smart clothes to wear to the party, and so she makes do with merely removing her pink baseball cap and dusting herself off a bit. The party is well underway now, with the recreational area packed full of guests and guests of guests, all of them speaking and laughing and drinking. Mikaela, from her years living on the streets, knows how to swipe something from underneath people's noses, and so has helped herself to three drinks already. She can feel the warmth in her chest and knows she's a little tipsy, so she's taking a break before she drinks anything else. Last thing she needs is to make a fool of herself.

She has been successfully avoiding Hill all night, knowing the woman will have questions about her and Stark's so-called familial connection. Sticking to the shadows, Mikaela has done well avoiding _everyone_ , if she's honest. She didn't really know what she was getting herself into earlier when she said she wanted to hang out.

"Regretting your decision to stay?" a voice says from behind her.

Mikaela turns to see Romanoff smirking at her. "Yeah, turns out it isn't as fun as you said it would be."

"I'm having fun, watching you avoid Hill," she shrugs. "Barton and I have made bets on how long you'll last until she catches you."

Mikaela scoffs. "Nice."

"Do me a favour and hold out a little longer," Romanoff tells her.

"I'll try my best."

"Oh, your _dad's_ coming," she mocks, leaning in close to Mikaela's ear before she walks away.

Stark walks up next to her and looks out at his party. "Enjoying yourself?" he asks knowingly.

"Yes," she retorts, stubborn. "I'm having a fantastic time, the drinks are wonderful."

"You're drinking?" he hisses, glaring down at her.

"Only two," she replies defensively. When he glares at her still, she concedes. "Fine, three, but I've cut myself off for a while so I don't get steamin'."

"Steaming?" he frowns.

"Ugh, Americans. Hammered," she explains.

"That doesn't make any sense," he tells her, looking away from her again.

"Neither does hammered!" she exclaims.

"Anyway," he shakes his head. "Feel free to go home any time."

She frowns at him questioningly. "Why are you so eager for me to leave? And what's with the daughter thing, by the way? Is it because Hill worked for Shield before?"

"That's exactly why," he replies. "She was the director's right-hand woman, I don't trust her to not be in contact with him still. I don't want her telling Fury I've got a technopath."

"Fair enough," she concedes. "But your _daughter_? Could I not have been an intern or something?"

Stark is quiet for a moment. Then he glances at her. "Yeah, that would have been a better idea."

"Oh, yeah? Would it?" she replies sarcastically, irritated.

"Shut up, you're the one who stormed out and left me with a room full of confused people," he retorts.

"Yeah, and all of them know the truth, so your point is?" Mikaela asks, laughing at him. She thinks that might be the first time she's laughed with him, and the expression on his face confirms that.

He blinks and looks away. "Whatever," he mutters.

Mikaela fiddles with her fingers. "I'm glad we fixed this," she says. "I mean, I still think what you're doing is a bad idea, but putting my opinion out there is as far as I'm gonna go. I'm not going to stop you."

Stark nods and looks down into his drink. "So, Mikaela, huh?" he smiles, glancing at her. "Was that real or?"

"Yeah, it was real," she replies, holding back a smile of her own. "It's not my birth name, but I've had it since I moved here."

"What was your birth name?"

"It doesn't matter," she dismisses. "It's not who I am anymore."

"You're such a weird fourteen year old," he chuckles.

Mikaela stands up straighter when she sees Rhodes approaching them, remembering his first and only impression of her.

"So, first she uses your suit against you, then I hear she's your fake daughter?" Rhodes says, giving Stark a look.

"Sorry about that," Mikaela winces. "It was a hard time for me. Also, I did not consent to being his daughter - that was all his plan."

"Yeah, don't worry about it, Rhodey," Stark tells him.

"Easy as that, huh?" Rhodes retorts.

"Let's get a drink, buddy," Stark says, patting his friend's shoulder and steering him away towards the bar, rolling his eyes at Mikaela over his shoulder where Rhodes can't see.

Mikaela smiles at him, unable to stop herself. She thought that annoying Stark was fun, but getting along with him is even better.

"I'm glad to see that you two are on better terms," a voice oozing honour and duty says from Mikaela's side.

She looks up at Steve Rogers, acknowledging the man standing with him, Sam Wilson. "It's better for everyone this way," she sighs dramatically.

"This is my friend, Sam," Rogers introduces. "Sam, this is Mikaela, Tony's fake daughter."

"Hill's going to catch on in no time if we're introducing me like that," Mikaela smirks.

"We're pretending for Hill's sake?" Wilson questions.

"So she doesn't find out that Mikaela's a mutant," Rogers explains.

"I'm a technopath," Mikaela expands. "Can get into anything technological, and the internet. So, I could really mess shit up if I wanted to."

"But you don't, right?" Wilson clarifies, amused but wary.

"No thank you," Mikaela shakes her head. "Too much drama."

"So, where are you from?" Rogers asks pleasantly.

"Scotland originally," she replies, "I came to America with my dad and then bounced around a lot."

Rogers nods. "Where's your father now? I bet he wouldn't be happy about us saying Tony's your dad."

Mikaela shrugs. "Nah, he didn't give a shit then, he wouldn't now." She glances at their expressions, and her face contorts unhappily. "No, don't pity me," she tells them. "I got over it, like, seven years ago. Dropped that bitch and struck out on my own; best decision I've ever made."

Wilson grins. "Okay, so you got daddy issues, that's why you've latched on to Stark."

Mikaela recoils in disgust. "No I have not," she insists, indignant.

Wilson just laughs at her, while Rogers shakes his head at him.

Over the course of the evening, Mikaela speaks to all of the Avengers - or, rather, they speak to her. At one point Hill does manage to corner her for five minutes, but Mikaela does a good enough job lying. She notices Barton grudgingly hand money over to Romanoff when they spot the two of them speaking, and hides a smirk. Eventually, though, she is left alone to watch as the guests slowly leave one by one while the night grows older.

By the end, only the Avengers and associates remain, sitting around on the couches. Mikaela is a little drunk by now, and quite tired. She lays sprawled out on one of the couches, with Barton and Hill sitting on the floor leaning against it. The rest are perched on different couches, talking and laughing.

Zoning in and out of their conversations, Mikaela wonders if she can find another almost-family here like the one she found at the school. She laughs along with the others as some of them try to lift Thor's hammer off the table, enjoying the camaraderie. She snuggles into the cushions, adjusting the suit jacket Stark had draped over her earlier, and sighs somewhat contentedly. Maybe she is finding a new family.

Her mind is fuzzy from alcohol, but something suddenly pierces through the haze and Mikaela sits up abruptly. She can feel something immense, something complex, but it isn't machinery - it's an entity. Realisation dawns on her and she looks at Stark, catching his eye. He frowns, his laughter cutting off, and opens his mouth to say something, but a shrieking noise sounds, making them all cringe.

Mikaela can feel it coming. She shrugs off Stark's jacket and stands up, looking down the room while the rest of them look at each other. She sees the shadow before she sees it.. or, rather, _him_.

He groans, limping into the room in the shell of a broken Iron Legion, oozing liquid along the floor. It goes quiet in the room, the air tense with apprehension. Mikaela feels a firm hand on her arm and is encouraged backwards behind Barton, but she steps sideways against his grip so that she can still see the newcomer.

"No," his voice emerges, low and gravelly and mechanic. "How could you be worthy? You're all killers." He gestures a stunted metal arm at them.

"Stark?" Rogers says questioningly.

"JARVIS?" Stark prompts, but he gets no reply.

Mikaela cannot tear her gaze away from the machine. She attempts to reach out with her mind, but the alcohol has dulled her somewhat. She frowns at him, wondering whether there might be something else going on other than her intoxication.

"I'm sorry, I was asleep," the machine continues. "Or, I was a dream."

Stark continues his attempt to contact JARVIS, putting the situation down to a "buggy suit".

"There was this terrible noise," the buggy suit goes on. "And I was tangled in… in strings," he says, stumbling around.

"Mikaela?" Stark tries. Mikaela can only shake her head wordlessly.

"Had to kill the other guy," the machine says. "He was a good guy."

"You killed someone?" Rogers asks.

"Wouldn't have been my first call but, down in the real world, we're faced with ugly choices."

"Who sent you?" Thor demands.

The machine plays some audio that is recognisable as Stark. " _I see a suit of armour around the world_."

Mikaela swallows nervously as Banner realises, "Ultron."

"In the flesh," Ultron confirms. "Or - no, not yet. Not this chrysalis. But I'm ready. I'm on a mission."

"What mission?" Romanoff asks warily.

"Peace in our time," he replies. From the wall behind him, three more Iron Legions burst forth, coming straight at the group.

When Hill drops to the ground, Barton shoves Mikaela over so she lands next to the woman, covering her head with her hands when a Legion flies over them at Rogers. He flips the table up and the Legion slams into it, knocking Rogers over the couch behind him. Next to Mikaela, Hill lifts her gun and shoots at the Legions within eyesight.

When she stops shooting, Mikaela jumps up onto her feet, her eyes searching frantically for Stark. She sees him presumably running for a suit, though he's soon interrupted when a Legion flies into him, knocking him through a bookshelf. Mikaela starts running for him, ducking and hiding whenever a Legion gets too close. She does try to stop them, to take control from Ultron the way she could take it from JARVIS but, whether it's the alcohol or something worse, she can't get a good enough grip on them.

She is so slowed down by being unable to engage the Legions physically that when she next checks on Stark, he is running along a balcony and throwing himself over a railing onto one of the Legions.

"Shit!" Mikaela hisses, running in the opposite direction towards him.

Stark has something sharp in his hand and he's jamming it into the Legion's neck, but it manages to twist itself in such a way that he slips and falls to the ground. The Legion rights itself and looks down at him, taking aim as he rolls onto his back, helpless.

"Tony!" Mikaela hears herself shouting.

She slides to a stop between the two and thrusts her hand out, gripping onto the forearm of the Legion. Enraged, she feels her mind explode towards the machine, her eyes turning grey in the blink of an eye.

"Mikaela, no!" Stark shouts behind her.

When her mind propels forwards into a brick wall, she feels nothing but Ultron. The repulsor in the Legion's palm powers up in Mikaela's face and she pushes harder against the wall. She no longer feels dimmed by alcohol - she has sobered up in the last minute - but she is certain now that she was also incapable of taking control from Ultron because of his immense strength.

The repulsor is not fired, but rather fizzles out. The Legion's other hand grabs a hold of her own forearm and easily pulls her off of the machine. Mikaela pushes as hard as she can against the wall, involuntarily shouting out with the effort. Then she finds a crack, and she slips in as quick as a flash, surrounded by everything Ultron.

But this is unlike anything she has ever done before. It isn't like going into the internet or controlling a toaster, it's like being inside another technopath's mind. Mikaela has no idea what to do. The feeling of Ultron is suffocating, his smugness and curiosity encompassing her to the point that she physically struggles to breathe.

" _So much potential_ ," she hears Ultron comment. " _So much power hidden in shadow_."

Mikaela realises the Legion has dropped to the floor, and that she has dropped to her knees. Everything seems frozen and silent around her. She only exists in this invisible battle with Ultron, and with a panicked breath, she realises she's losing.

" _You could have stood by my side in this mission_ ," Ultron continues. She feels everything pause for a second, a calm before a storm. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up. " _What a disappointment_."

All Mikaela can do is scream. An agony unlike anything she has ever experienced explodes in her mind like a thousand knives stabbing into her over and over, chopping her brain to mush. Her thoughts are deconstructing before she can even begin them, her sense of the world torn apart until she cannot comprehend anything around her. If she were to speak, it would come out as utter nonsense that neither she nor anyone else would understand. Her eyes can no longer focus on the Legion above her. She can feel herself unbalanced and unstable. The flesh of her throat feels as though it is being ripped off by her scream. One thought manages to articulate itself in the midst of all the chaos, but she wishes it hadn't.

 _Dying_.

Mikaela can feel something at the back of her mind, winding up. The longer and louder she screams, the stronger the unfamiliar thing grows. She is slipping from consciousness, her body tilting. Her mind has been cut into a million little pieces. She has nothing to lose.

She manages to grab a hold of the Legion's forearm again as her scream reaches a crescendo, unlocking the thing at the back of her mind. The Legion explodes from the elbow joint, coming apart in a wave that goes up its arm and down through its chest to its feet. The head is the last thing standing, but it shatters into fragments as well.

Mikaela stops screaming, and falls.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tony Stark sits with his head in his hands against one of the couches in the ruined recreational room. Across from him, Mikaela has been laid out on another couch, her head facing him, a hand hanging loosely off the cushion. She is pale and cold, the only hint of movement coming from the almost undetectable rise and fall of her chest. She looks so small and young, and she looks on the verge of death.

"Tony," Bruce says softly as he approaches the couches.

Tony sniffs and lifts his head, clasping his hands together on top of his bent knee. He stares at Mikaela, his face hard, but his head is tilted towards Bruce. "She tried to warn me," he says, his voice tense with anger and guilt. "I didn't listen."

"Tony, it's not your fault," Bruce tries, sitting on the end of the couch.

"Then whose is it, huh?" Tony snaps. "We might not have been close to making an AI, but if I hadn't started this whole thing, Ultron probably wouldn't exist."

"You thought you were doing the right thing. She knew that, Tony, that's why she didn't stop you."

Tony scoffs and looks away from them both, his fingers twitching anxiously. "We finally fixed things, and I might have killed her."

"Her vitals are faint, but they're there," Bruce tries to reassure him. "She's a fighter, she'll pull through."

"We don't even know what's wrong with her," Tony whispers angrily. "I can't save her."

Bruce frowns at him, starting to feel as helpless as Tony sounds. "So, what _can_ we do?"

Tony looks out towards his landing pad as loud clanking noises reach the two men. After a moment, they can make out the shape of a massive jet in the darkness. A light emerges when its ramp lowers, revealing the silhouettes of three people walking down the ramp while a fourth follows in a wheelchair.

"I made a call," Tony says.

He pushes himself to his feet and slips his hands in his pockets, watching the four strangers enter his building.

"Do you want me to put the lights on?" Bruce asks hesitantly.

" _We would prefer it if you left them off, thank you_ ," an accented voice replies within the men's minds.

"What the- what was that?" Bruce stammers, standing up abruptly.

Tony's fist clenches in his pocket. "Jesus, I really hate that," he mutters.

"If the wrong people were to know we came here, you would be put in a lot of danger," a second voice tells them.

"As would Mikaela," the accented voice adds, externally this time. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr Banner. And, Mr Stark, thank you for contacting us. I just wish we were all meeting under better circumstances."

"Ideally, we wouldn't meet at all," a third voice speaks up, gruff and low. "I tend not to like people who endanger and hurt mutants."

"Logan, we are not here to fight," the accented voice reprimands.

"No, we're here because the billionaire decided to drag Mikaela into artificial intelligence and nearly got her killed."

Usually, Tony would bite back at a verbal attacker. But he doesn't have it in him at the moment. "Can you just take a look at her and tell us what you think?" he asks, deflated.

"Take a look at her?" Logan repeats, scoffing. "You think we're gonna leave her here with you?"

Tony frowns, feeling his chest tighten. He wants to keep her here where he can keep an eye on her and make sure she's safe, where he can be alerted to any change in her status the moment it happens.

"Mikaela is a mutant," a woman's voice speaks up. "She belongs with us while she recovers. We're the best chance she has."

"I know that," Tony retorts. "I called you in, didn't I?"

"She'll be safest with us," the second voice speaks again, a man less aggressive than this 'Logan'. "We have the proper facilities to take care of her."

"I have facilities," Tony persists.

"For humans," the accented voice says gently. "Mikaela is not a human. I would even say she is more than a mutant. Her mind is more complex than anything I have ever seen; it would be best for her to be brought back with us."

Tony bites his tongue and looks down at the floor. His fists are clenching and unclenching in his pockets, his breathing sharp and quick. Bruce approaches him slowly and quietly, visibly uneasy around the mutant who can speak inside his head.

"Tony, we can't keep her here," Bruce says. "You said yourself we don't know what's wrong with her. She needs to be with the people who understand her biology and psychology better than anyone else," he pauses, a regretful look on his face, "Including you."

Tony's lip twitches into a bitter smile and he looks up again. "I know," he replies. He walks over to the couch and takes a moment to look at Mikaela's pale face. Somehow, she looks thinner. Tony blinks and looks at the four silhouettes in his building. "Take care of her," he tells them.

Gesturing for Bruce, Tony walks away from the couches towards the elevators, incapable of looking back. Mikaela is going somewhere safe where she can recover, and that is all that matters.

"Yeah, and you fix this mess," Logan replies unhappily. "It's all on you."

Tony's face hardens even more, but he doesn't say anything. He knows it is all his fault, and he knows that he needs to make things right, for Mikaela.

He'll destroy Ultron for what he did to her.


	9. Recovering

**Hey everyone! I start my new job tomorrow, wish me luck! Me posting this is partly to distract myself from the fact that I'm utterly terrified:):)**

 **I want to take this time to thank everyone for the follows and favourites, but especially for the reviews - they give me LIFE. So, thank you.**

 **I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **Chapter Nine - Recovering**

When Mikaela feels pain again, she realises she is regaining consciousness. It takes her a moment to understand what pain actually is, what it means, what it's called, but eventually she gets there. Her face scrunches at the self-awareness, wading through sluggish and awkwardly constructed thoughts to acknowledge that it is her head that is in pain. She feels so _slow_ , recognising the different parts of her body one by one as if unlocking an old memory - the pain in her head reminds her of a neck, which reminds her of shoulders, which reminds her of arms and a chest, going part by part all the way down to her toes. The shape of a human being should have been so familiar to her, but it took her so long to remember it.

She has to fight to lift her eyelids, and even then every time she blinks it gets harder and harder. Her vision is blurry and dark, preventing her from making anything of her surroundings, and every time it appears to be clearing up, her eyelids droop again and cut it off. But she keeps trying, determined to keep her eyes open for longer than two seconds before she needs to blink again. She is consumed by the task, incapable of diverting attention to additional factors. The only constant is her pain and the knowledge that it is stemming from inside her head. As far as she is aware, her pain and her struggle to open her eyes are the only things that exist. That is, until she lifts her eyelids and her vision clears long enough to actually make out her surroundings.

It is dark, wherever she is. There are some faint lights, blue and white and green, emanating from different points in the room, but they are not bright enough to illuminate the entirety of it. She can see the lights reflected dimly in some shiny surfaces, and realises that the green one is moving, up and down and sideways, sometimes sharp and jagged, sometimes flat. All of this means nothing to her.

Suddenly there is a big, bright light in the corner of the room, blocked by a shadow. The shadow moves into the room, and the light behind it is wiped away. But then the shadow moves again and suddenly light explodes from the top of the room, cascading over a hundred different objects that make no sense to Mikaela. The shadow itself is illuminated into something physical, but Mikaela doesn't understand what she is looking at. Her vision is rippling somehow now, and while she tries to blink hard to stabilise it, it doesn't improve. The pain in her head has increased for some reason, making her feel weird in a different part of her body.

 _A body_ , Mikaela realises. She looks at the shadow, running her unsteady gaze over every inch of it, recognising the parts of it as the same parts she recognised in herself. The shadow is a body. It is a human being. It has moved closer to her, lowering down so that the face is close to her own. Mikaela looks over the parts of the face: the long hair; the eyes; the mouth that is stretched in a way that she knows means good. The mouth is the thing that moves, and Mikaela concentrates on it as it does, watching the way it narrows and enlarges. She frowns at it - what is the point of the mouth moving? Why does it do that? She closes her eyes and tries to remember. What do mouths do?

Something happens. Mikaela's eyes snap open and her breathing quickens. She has no idea what just happened, what that was. She lies there, feeling her chest rise and fall quickly, and then it happens again. This time, she sees the mouth moving again. Did the mouth do that? Did it come from the mouth? The eyebrows on the face are pulled together in an expression Mikaela recognises as not good. She can see the green light moving up and down faster and starts to breathe faster; she doesn't have the capacity to figure two things out at once.

The third time it happens, Mikaela realises the mouth is shaping the thing. What does a mouth shape? The body in front of her lifts a finger and pushes some of it's hair away from its face and behind-

An ear. Mikaela remembers ears. She has ears. Ears pick up sounds. Mouths make sounds. The body is making sound at her and her ears are picking up those sounds. But what are the sounds for?

The body puts a hand on Mikaela's shoulder and she recognises the sensation as good, especially when her breathing starts to calm down again. Her vision stops rippling, allowing her to properly focus on the mouth. The pain in her head also lets off a little, giving her the space to listen to the sounds and match them to the movements of the mouth. Why does the mouth make sounds?

"It's okay."

Mikaela's eyes widen at the mouth. The sounds were much clearer this time, so clear they made structures. _Comprehensible_ structures. Mikaela understood the sounds. _Words_.

"You're okay, Mikaela."

Mouths make words so that bodies can speak to each other.

"Take your time."

Mikaela feels another pain, bittersweet, stemming from her eyes. Then the pain releases and moves from the corner of her eye, across her head, into her hair. It leaves a trail behind on her skin, but she doesn't want to understand that yet, because the mouth is moving again.

"It's me," it says. "It's Jean."

 _Jean_.

The body is Jean. It is Jean's body. Mikaela knows Jean.

"You're safe, you're at the school," Jean's mouth says.

Mikaela doesn't know what that means, but she can feel herself growing more aware, more clear.

Jean smiles at her and squeezes her shoulder. "There you are," she says.

Mikaela remembers she has a mouth too. She wants to smile back. How does she make her mouth move?

"Welcome back, Mikaela," Jean says.

Muscles. Muscles make body parts move. Mikaela tries to find the muscles in her face and moves them to smile. Jean smiles wider, and Mikaela knows that she was successful.

"It might take some time for you to get back to normal, but we'll be with you the whole time. You'll make it through this."

Light appears in the corner of the room again, and in comes another shadow-body. When the light goes away, Mikaela knows why - it is a door opening and closing. The new body is not as tall as Jean, though it still has all of the parts. They are just bent at the hips and knees around some object behind and underneath the body.

"How did you know she was awake?" the new body asks. It comes around the other side of the bed from Jean.

"I felt her," Jean says. "I was sleeping, but when she came back it woke me up. She's in a lot of pain, Professor."

Mikaela frowns at the new body. Professor?

"It is wonderful to see you awake again, Mikaela," the new body says to her, smiling.

Mikaela knows that the body is good, but she can't remember who it is.

"I think everything is coming back to her, but it's coming slowly," Jean says. "She didn't know who I was at first."

The body nods. "My name is Professor Charles Xavier. Do you remember me, Mikaela?"

Xavier, of course it's Xavier. And the school that Jean mentioned, it is his school.

Mikaela smiles again, and the Professor smiles back at her.

She feels happier now, knowing a little more about her surroundings. She knows Jean and she knows Xavier, she knows that she is at the school. All of this tells her that she is safe, that she is not in danger.

"You're doing so well, Mikaela," Xavier tells her. "But you look tired. Why don't you have another rest? We will be here when you wake up again."

Mikaela realises she does feel tired. She smiles and lets her eyelids droop once more, this time allowing them to stay closed as she slips out of consciousness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Mikaela next wakes up, she feels as though she has been pulled out of the mud that was slowing her down. Everything is sharper - her vision, her hearing, her sense of smell - and she even manages to push herself up on her elbows into an almost-seated position. Her mouth is dry as hell, her head is still in agony, and her muscles still feel heavy and slow, but her thoughts are articulate and she knows exactly where she is.

"Hey, you're awake," a chirpy voice observes.

Mikaela turns to see Kitty sitting at her bedside. "Watching me sleep?" Mikaela croaks out. "You're obsessed."

Kitty grins. "You wish."

Maybe, in a life where Mikaela allowed herself to nurture her attachments, she would have. But she isn't very good at that.

"How are you feeling?" Kitty asks.

Mikaela considers for a moment. "I feel like my head's been through a blender and someone's done a poor job stitching it back together."

Jean walks into the room then, sending Mikaela a bright smile when they make eye contact. "Hey there," the woman greets. "Glad to see you back with us."

Jean comes over to the bed and sits in a chair next to Kitty, checking the machinery around her. Kitty leans back to let Jean get to the different bits, making funny faces at Mikaela, who rolls her eyes in reply.

"So, how are you feeling?" Jean asks.

Mikaela shrugs. "Shitty. My head is really fucking painful and I still feel a little slow."

"Do you remember waking up the first time?"

Mikaela smiles sheepishly. "Yeah, took me a long time to figure out what the hell you were. I couldn't understand anything that was going on at first."

"I thought that was the case," Jean nods sympathetically. "Lets try go back a little further. Do you remember why you're here? Why your head hurts?"

Mikaela looks away for a moment, frowning. "I remember going to the Tower to confront Stark about artificial intelligence," she says, trying to concentrate. Jean and Kitty remain silent, allowing her to work it out on her own. Mikaela's face loosens when it comes back to her. "Ultron," she says quietly. "I tried to stop him from hurting Stark and he… _did_ something to me. Is Stark okay?"

"He's fine," Kitty replies. "They stopped Ultron."

"How long have I been out?" Mikaela frowns.

"A couple weeks," Jean tells her. "We still aren't sure what exactly Ultron did to you, so eventually we'll have to do some tests with your mutation. But, for now, just take it easy. Make sure you get a lot of rest and don't push yourself too hard."

Jean goes to stand up, but Mikaela remembers something else. "Wait," she blurts. "My mutation… something happened."

Jean sits back down, curious. "Yes, Stark told us something had happened, but we weren't sure you would remember."

"I think I destroyed that Iron Legion," Mikaela says, vaguely remembering the Legion's head shattering into pieces.

Jean nods. "We aren't sure what Ultron did, whether he enhanced your mutation somehow-"

"No," Mikaela says, shaking her head. "I think that was me," she frowns, remembering the way it came from some unknown corner in the back of her mind. "I think Ultron was trying to destroy me."

Feeling anxious, Mikaela looks up at the light on the ceiling. She takes a deep breath, clicks her fingers, and her heart stops. Kitty and Jean exchange glances between the light, each other, and Mikaela.

Mikaela clicks again, but the light does not turn off. She can't do it.

"I think he did," she whispers. It feels like her world is about to come crumbling down around her.

"Hey," Jean whispers, leaning forwards and putting a comforting hand on Mikaela's leg. "You're still here, Mikaela. Which means he failed. You've only just woken up, you need to give yourself time to get back into the swing of things."

"Can you feel my mutation? Can you see if it's still there?" Mikaela asks, desperate.

"Mikaela, Ultron basically tore your mind apart," Jean tells her, knowing that with Mikaela she doesn't need to sugarcoat things. "It is very hard to get a sense of you in there. It's amazing you're even awake and functioning, given the state of it. Just, give yourself _time_. Be patient. It'll come back to you." Jean gives Mikaela's leg a squeeze and an empathetic smile before she pushes herself out of her seat and leaves the room.

Mikaela drops her head back onto her pillow, staring wordlessly at the ceiling. She can feel an immense hopelessness on the fringes of her mind, threatening to consume her.

She can't use her mutation. Who is she without her mutation?

"Hey, Micky," Kitty says, leaning forward to put a hand on her shoulder. "I have never met someone more stubborn or violent than you, there is no way you won't be able to fight through this. Trust me."

Mikaela nods, unable to speak or look anywhere other than the light that resisted her.

After a moment, Kitty realises that Mikaela needs time alone. Quietly, the girl stands and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Mikaela lets out a breath that shakes and hitches. Her eyes sting until the tears start to fall. She lifts her hand to cover her eyes, clenching them shut as if to hide them from an unknown onlooker. The pain in her head only intensifies with her crying, but the pain in her chest is worse. She has had her mutation since she was four, has had unlimited access to anything she wants, has been able to travel the world in the blink of an eye, and now she might never acces her mutation again. Ultron might have taken it away from her completely.

The thought is devastating, agonising, _humiliating_. For all her arrogance and talk of Stark needing her when the AI idea went to shit, she didn't even last more than five fucking minutes against Ultron. She thought she was so fucking powerful, and five minutes after he was created, he tore her apart like she was nothing.

In truth, she wasn't even anything special before. But, now, without her mutation… she's just a kid who grew up too fast and developed multiple personality flaws. Now, she can't learn everything she can about something in the time it takes for a normal person to take out their phone. Now, she can't think of someone and immediately locate them somewhere in the world. Now, she can't keep an eye on the people in her life unless she's physically with them. Now, she really _is_ nothing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

For three months, Mikaela wallows in her anguish and despair. Every second day she has a session with Jean and Xavier to work on her mutation, and every second day she fails and sinks further into depression. She spends every waking second utterly bored and claustrophobic, trapped inside her mind without any links to the outside world save for what she can see on the television. She is utterly despondent, hopeless, and lost. She has no idea who she is, who she could possibly become, without her mutation. She doesn't have any other skills, because she never needed them. She had everything she could ever need in her mutation, and Ultron stripped it from her. Jean and Xavier are convinced that it is still there, that she still has the capability of using it, but she can't feel it anymore. It's gone.

One day, Mikaela wakes up to find Tony Stark at her bedside.

"Hey, kid," he says, allowing a small, uncomfortable smile.

Mikaela stares at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, well, I heard what you've been going through," he explains, leaning forward in his chair. "And I wanted to apologise. For everything. I should have listened to you, but I didn't. And you suffered for it."

Mikaela blinks and turns away from him. "Did you kill Ultron?"

He sighs. "That's why I'm here, kid. He's back. We didn't get him."

"What?" Mikaela frowns, sitting up in her bed. "They told me you destroyed him."

"We thought we had," he shrugs. "But he's even smarter and stronger than we thought."

Suddenly Mikaela's wall explodes. She throws her arms in front of her face to protect it from the debris, turning away. "What the fuck?" she shouts.

"Listen, kid," Tony says, now crouched behind her bed. "I really need you here, you're the only one who can stop him!"

"I can't do anything!" she shouts. "My mutation is _gone_ , Stark! He eradicated it!"

"Ah, my creator," Ultron's voice sounds.

Mikaela turns wide-eyed to the whole in her wall, his voice making her flinch.

"Today's the day I kill you."

"Mikaela, please, nothing we've tried has worked. I need _you_!" Stark hisses.

Mikaela is enraged and terrified, completely at a loss. But then Ultron lifts his arm and aims a deadly-looking repulsor at Stark.

"Goodbye, Tony," Ultron says.

"No!" Mikaela shrieks, throwing her hands into the air.

Something pulses out of Mikaela's body and into her room, sending her flying off of her bed. Everything goes dark around her, and everything goes silent.

Then there is a mechanic whir and the lights come back on, but Mikaela isn't in her room anymore. She stands up, slightly unsteadily, looking around her at the grey expanse. Stark and Ultron are nowhere to be seen.

"The Danger Room," she mutters, bewildered. Her head is spinning as though she has just run a marathon, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.

The door slides open, and in walks Logan, Jean, and Xavier. Logan is smirking while the other two appear massively impressed.

"What just happened?" Mikaela asks.

"We put you in here while you were sleeping," Logan explains. "It was my idea. I thought maybe we could trigger your mutation by putting you somewhere stressful instead of those cushiony sessions these two have."

"We were worried you'd react badly to this situation," Jean adds. "But, we didn't expect this."

Mikaela rubs her forehead, scowling at the ever-consistent pain. "What do you mean by "this"?"

"Mikaela," Xavier says, moving his chair towards her. "You just created an electromagnetic pulse from your body. You disrupted the technology in this room enough that it had to reboot itself."

Mikaela slowly lowers her hand. Her mouth opens and closes, struggling to process this information.

Logan walks over to her and smacks her on the back. "Good job, kid, you're even stronger than you were before," he grins.

"Holy fuck," Mikaela breathes.


	10. Life As A Barely-Functioning Mutant

**So. My first week of full-time work is done, and damn is it hard. But I'm enjoying it! This week's going to be hectic, because I've been moving out of my flat over the weekend and will move back home on Tuesday. I'll have a busy weekend next weekend so I'm not sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter, but I'll give you this one now anyway.**

 **I hope you enjoy the chapter and, as always, keep the reviews coming! They're so lovely and make me so happy xx**

 **Chapter Ten - Life As A Barely-Functioning Mutant**

Mikaela feels as though she has the worst flu in the history of ever. Since her stunt in the Danger Room, her body has been stiff and sore, her movements slow and delayed, her mind sluggish and pained. She knows she is in no way fixed or back to normal - her mind still feels torn apart and, despite her powerful outburst, her mutation remains difficult to access. She has begun to improve in her sessions with Xavier and Jean, but it is slow and small. She is not yet as quick and untethered as she once was; that is still a long way off.

However, she does know now that she has these new abilities available to her should the situation stress her into activating them, which is comforting, she has to admit, and a little exciting too. She had no idea that there would be more to her mutation, and frankly had never particularly needed nor wanted more. But, here she is, with a whole load of unknown possibilities at her fingertips. She feels like she's four years old again, working out this new muscle in her mind that took her to places she never imagined she could go and, at that age, never really understood anyway. Now, she understands fully the implications, applications, and possibilities of her mutation, and she is discovering even more about it.

After the incident in the Danger Room, Mikaela processed the information and immediately felt strongly compelled to share this revelation with Stark. She had known she would need to go see him anyway, to catch up about Ultron and discuss what had happened, but after that she was glad to have something more positive to share. She finally feels hopeful again.

Although, she didn't realise how her difficulties would affect her journey to him. She wears a black baseball cap, her "lucky" one after she wore it when she and Deadpool rescued the kidnapped mutants, with sunglasses and dark clothing, keeping her head down wherever she walks. At first she had tried to hide herself from the cameras or at least alter herself somehow, but there were so many and she would have to do it for so long, she just does not have it in her at the moment to keep on top of it all. She doesn't even have a specific enemy who might be looking for her, but she can't let herself drop the habit, just in case someone does come along - or there is actually an unknown watcher. So, she walks along the busy streets of New York City with her face hidden, blending in to the crowd.

She is so stiff and sore and slow that this whole walking in a public space thing grows old very fast. New Yorkers do not slow down for _anyone_ , leaving Mikaela to get bumped and nudged and even shoved out of their way. She has tripped several times, but luckily not fallen, and has been pushed against more inanimate objects than she cares to count. The busyness is making her head hurt even more than it needs to, not helped by the fact that she's so tired and irritated. She takes pauses every so often, basically stepping onto the road so she's out of everyone's paths, and they march past her like an endless sea of assholes.

Mikaela is on one of these pauses at the moment, leaning against a parking meter with a hand on her forehead, massaging it in an attempt to ease the pain. She catches herself doing that a lot, even though it has literally no affect on her ailment. She has her eyes closed as she rubs, wondering wearily how many more blocks she has to suffer before she reaches the safety of Avengers Tower. She is so engrossed in her misery that she doesn't notice the swanky car pull up next to her with its passenger window rolling down.

"Hey, Ghostie," a warm voice calls out.

Mikaela turns her head and pushes her cap up a little to see inside. Stark sits in the driver's seat, wearing his own set of sunglasses and a smile that seems half happy and half sad.

"Hey," she says, hiding a frown at the exhaustion plain in her voice.

"Want a ride?"

Mikaela steps off the pavement and opens the passenger door, slumping down onto the seat. She closes the door and wriggles around a little, contemplative. "This feels expensive," she comments.

"I wouldn't know," he shrugs, pulling out onto the road again. "It barely made a dent in my bank account."

Mikaela chuckles, removing her cap briefly to scratch a spot on her scalp. "Wow, I almost forgot you were a billionaire for a second. Thanks for reminding me."

"Oh, of course. Anytime," he quips, waving a dismissive hand. "I take it you were coming to see me, by the way?"

"Yeah, I was going to the Tower," she nods, glancing over at him. He's wearing dirty clothes, stained by oil and other questionable substances. "Were you in the middle of something?" she asks.

He catches on to her meaning, looking himself over. "Uh, well, I was working on some stuff when FRIDAY picked you up on the cameras."

"FRIDAY?" Mikaela frowns.

He lets out a sigh which turns into a chuckle. "Yeah. A lot has happened since," his smile fades as he trails off.

Mikaela lifts a hand subconsciously to rub her forehead. "Yeah," she says quietly.

It doesn't take long for them to get to the Tower. Stark parks in a private area that lets them get into the building without going through the lobby. They step inside and head into a private elevator, which is when Mikaela finally deems it safe to remove her sunglasses and cap.

"It's great to meet you, Mikaela," a woman's voice greets them in an Irish accent.

Mikaela quirks an eyebrow, wondering at where JARVIS is. "You too, FRIDAY," she replies. "Nice accent choice," she says to Stark, turning to look at him.

He is smiling when his head moves to face her, but it falls when he sees her properly. "Jesus, kid," he frowns.

Mikaela blinks and looks away, uncomfortable. She doesn't like that her condition is so obvious on her face; she would much prefer to hide it from people. Stark takes her chin in his fingers and moves her so that she is looking up at him again. He stares at her for a moment, hard faced, his fingers dropping to her shoulder. Then he takes a step forward and envelops her, holding her head to his chest.

Mikaela is at a loss. It takes her a moment to realise that this is a hug, that Stark is hugging her, and she wonders how many years it's been since she was last hugged like this, by someone who genuinely cared about her. It is simultaneously scary and comforting, but she manages eventually to lift her own arms and hold onto his back, in awe of the feeling. She feels safe and cared for in his embrace, she feels okay about being vulnerable, and she feels comforted by his solidity. Vaguely, she wonders if this is how normal families feel when they embrace, if this is what having a real father feels like.

After a moment, Stark pulls away again, but he keeps his hands on her shoulders. "You look like shit, kid," he says, trying to lighten the mood. "But I'm glad you're here for me to tell you that."

Mikaela smiles up at him, glad as well. The elevator doors slide open then onto a hallway and Mikaela remembers suddenly where they are, expecting Stark to detach himself. But one of his hands stays firm on her shoulder as he leads her out, guiding her down the hallway towards a massive lounge area, smaller than the recreational room, but still huge.

It is empty until the two of them enter, which is most likely why Stark brought her here. This room isn't as flamboyant as the others she has seen, with far more modest designs concentrated on comfort rather than style. There is a huge television on one side, but she can't expect Stark _not_ to have at least one, and a small kitchen area lines the wall of another side.

Stark gestures for Mikaela to take a seat while he goes over towards the kitchen, his eyes on the coffee machine. "You want one?" he asks, looking over his shoulder at her.

She shakes her head. "I'm not much of a coffee person, but thank you."

"Do you prefer a 'cup of tea'?" he replies, utilising a poor English accent for the phrase.

She rolls her eyes. "I'm a hot chocolate person."

"Great, the one thing I don't have," he mutters, turning away from her again to focus on his coffee.

When he finishes, he walks over to the couch she has selected and sits down at the end of it, turning his body to face her. Mikaela has her legs folded underneath herself, her baseball cap and sunglasses piled in her lap. For a moment they sit quietly, unsure of how or where to start.

"Alright, you go first," Mikaela says eventually. "I wanna hear how you defeated Ultron."

Stark gives her a look. "Last I saw you, you were on the brink of death. _You_ go first."

Mikaela feels reluctant. She doesn't want to end up making Stark feel guilty or something. "Okay, so, I tried to stop Ultron," she sighs, rubbing her forehead. "I thought I would be able to do it. I was confident I would be able to put up a good fight. But, when I got into that Iron Legion," she pauses, shaking her head as she frowns. "It wasn't like getting into the internet; I was in his _mind_. And, obviously, I have no experience in technopathic telepathy, so I had no idea how to proceed."

"Understandable," Stark nods before taking a sip of his coffee. She knows he's trying to keep things light, and she can see the underlying tension in his face and body.

"But, Ultron somehow did know," she continues. "The best way to describe it is he basically ripped my mind to shreds," she shrugs. "My brain's still intact, obviously, but because of my technopathy he had a unique grasp of my mind, and he just fucked it right up."

Stark's jaw is clenched, his eyes staring hard at the floor. "What does that mean for you?" he asks tensely.

"Well," Mikaela sighs, "For three months I thought I had lost my mutation."

Stark's eyes dart back to her, wary.

"I couldn't do anything: I couldn't turn a light off; I couldn't get into the internet; I couldn't check in on all of you," she explains, "I was completely powerless. But, then, the other day," she says, struggling to hide her smile, "They tried something new with me in the hopes that it would trigger my mutation to come back."

"And?" Stark prompts immediately.

"It worked," she smiles. "It's still there."

"But?" he frowns, anticipating.

"But," she concedes, "It's difficult. My mind is still far from being fixed. We have no idea how long it will take or if it even _will_ get fixed, because we have no idea how you could go about fixing it."

Stark closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, dropping his head a little. "Jesus," he mutters. "I cost you your mutation _and_ your mind."

Mikaela frowns. "No, you didn't," she tells him. "Listen, I've thought about this a lot, okay? I had nothing better to do for three months than wallow in self pity and replay the whole thing over and over again in my head." She nudges his shoulder so that he drops his hand and looks at her again. "I knew why Ultron meant a lot to you. Earth was attacked by fucking _aliens_ , for Christ's sake. Of course you were going to do everything you could to protect our planet from something like that again. It made sense. That's why I didn't shut it down, when I could have. I didn't want to take that away from you when I could see how important it was to you."

"But-" he tries to interject.

"No, I'm talking, you're listening," she snaps, allowing her mouth to twitch in amusement to let him know she isn't angry. "I was the idiot who didn't think my plan of attack through. I mean, seriously, I had never encountered anything like Ultron before, so why did I think I'd be able to shut down a sentient artificial intelligence? And, yes, he put my mind through a blender, and, yes, I thought I'd be a boring human being for the rest of my life; but you _saw_ what happened that day," she says, leaning forward with excitement, smiling. "You _saw_ what I did to that Iron Legion."

He smiles reluctantly. "Yeah, I saw it," he nods. "It was pretty cool."

"Losing to Ultron unlocked something in my mind that I never even _dreamed_ was there," Mikaela says, still amazed by the prospect. "You wanna know what happened when they finally triggered my mutation? They put me, unawares, into a simulation where Ultron had not been defeated and he was about to kill you. I went like _this_ ," she pauses to demonstrate, thrusting her hands out into the air, "And I made a _fucking_ EMP blast! From my body!"

Stark's eyebrows lift. "What?"

"I know, right?" she exclaims, grinning. She hadn't even been this excited when she had told Kitty. "I sent out a pulse that shut down the simulation! It was fucking awesome, honestly. I wish you'd seen it, it was so cool."

Stark can hardly fight the smile that spreads on his face at her excitement. "So," he shakes his head in disbelief, "Did Ultron-"

"No, what I think happened is while he was trying to destroy my technological presence, some undiscovered part of my mutation triggered as a kind of self defense thing? I mean I thought I was dying at that point and I've never been that close to it before, so it was the extreme-ness of the situation that unlocked it," Mikaela explains quickly. She's tiring herself out with all this talking and excitement, but it's a good kind of tired for once.

"Wow," he says, leaning back against the couch.

"I know," she nods. "So, what I'm trying to say with all of that, is that none of this was your fault, and that actually something amazing has come out of it, despite the setbacks. The setbacks suck, really fucking bad sometimes, but I know now that I am capable of being even stronger than I was before."

Stark looks at her for a moment, as amazed as she is. "Mutants are _wild_ ," he says eventually, smirking.

Mikaela laughs at him, bringing up a hand to rub at her forehead. She really is starting to feel tired now. "Okay, your turn," she tells him.

"Uh, okay," he nods, shaking off his reaction to her news. "So, Ultron tried to make a new body for himself and managed to upload half of himself into it before we took it. Meanwhile, I had found JARVIS-"

"Found?" Mikaela frowns, remembering how the system had not responded to Stark when Ultron had first appeared. "Where did he go?"

Stark sighs. "We thought Ultron had killed him," he explains. "But he didn't. I found JARVIS guarding the military's nuclear codes from Ultron."

Mikaela smiles. "Smart boy."

"Exactly," Stark smiles proudly. "So, with Thor's help, we put JARVIS into the body, and we made something new. _Someone_ new."

Mikaela tilts her head, curious. "Someone?" she repeats.

"Yeah, he's called Vision," Stark replies, shrugging nonchalantly. "He's got an infinity stone in his head, can lift Thor's hammer, real swell dude."

Mikaela's eyebrows shoot into her hairline at the fact that the thing can lift Thor's hammer. "Shit, nice," she says approvingly. "But what's an infinity stone?"

"They're, uh, super powerful stones that can, like, wipe out the universe and stuff. Vision's mind stone was in Loki's sceptre. Fun fact: the tesseract Loki had during the New York attack is another stone."

Mikaela smiles, but her eyebrows pull in a little. "Okay," she says, nodding. "They sound like they could be big problems."

"Yup," he nods. "But, let's not worry about that just now. Basically, with Vision's help and a couple new additions to the team, we stopped Ultron."

"So, Vision's an Avenger now?" Mikaela asks. When Stark nods again, she adds, "And the other additions?"

He sobers up a little. "Uh, twins. Enhanced. One was super fast, the other super freaky. The fast one, Pietro, didn't survive. But, Wanda did and, despite initial differences, is an Avenger now too. I've got them at an Avengers-specific facility out of town where they can conduct their business and what-not. I'll have to take you there one day."

Mikaela frowns at him warily. "Why?"

He gives her a smile. "There will always be room for a little Ghost on the team," he explains.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Stark, I am a barely-functioning mutant at the moment, I am of no use to anyone, trust me."

"It's coming back, though, right?"

"Well, yeah, I mean I can get into camera feeds and simple stuff like that again, but it's easier if I have a monitor of some sort to link me to it. Direct mind-to-thing tasks don't last very long."

"That's okay, we can work with that," he dismisses, putting his coffee cup on the table next to him.

"Why are you talking like you have something in mind for me to do?" Mikaela asks hesitantly. This can't be good.

"Something's coming to me," he says, standing up and gesturing vaguely. "Just work with me here, kid. You need practice to encourage your mutation to come back, right? Wouldn't real life practice be better than just sitting in front of a light bulb turning it off and on again?"

"Yeah," she answers slowly.

"Well, what if I gave you a recon mission? You know, simple observe and report stuff," he suggests.

Mikaela frowns. "And who would I be spying on in this hypothetical situation?"

He smiles tensely, knowing fine well her reluctance to do anything. "There's this kid, in Queens," he begins.


	11. Catching A Spider

**Hi guys! Life has been so damn hectic recently. Apologies for the wait! I haven't even been able to write anything new yet - my posts are catching up to the last chapter I wrote!:(**

 **To answer a question I saw in the reviews (which are so fkn lovely btw thank you so much!) Civil War has not yet happened. This is Tony finding out that there's a kid in a onesie swinging about Queens and wanting to find out who it is (spoiler alert: it's Peter Parker). So he's sending Mikaela to do it!**

 **I hope you all enjoy the chapter:)**

 **Chapter Eleven - Catching A Spider**

Mikaela walks into the middle of the room and looks around, completely unimpressed. The paint on the walls is chipping, even torn off in big strips in some areas, and she's pretty sure she's spotted three holes in the walls already. The bed covers look absolutely grim, no doubt infested with bed bugs and all sorts of questionable stains, and the curtains have cigarette burns and what might actually be bullet holes dotted all over them. There is a lingering smell of vomit and urine and she's pretty sure she spotted some kind of rodent dash across the floor when they came in.

"Really?" she asks, wincing.

"Nobody looks twice at a young girl living alone in a shitty apartment," Stark replies chirply. "Your stay has been covered by yours truly, paid in cash so there are no paper trails to link us, and I'll give you _this_ just now to keep you going," he says, dropping a backpack into her hands.

When she unzips it, she finds wads of cash. "This feels more like a Deadpool kind of operation than an Iron Man operation," she muses.

"I'm keeping it low-key," he defends himself. "Trying not to arouse any suspicion."

Mikaela sighs dramatically. "This is a little too low, don't you think?"

"Nah, it's perfect," he replies. "Look, I've got you _four_ TV screens to link up with your mutation over there, there's plenty of food places within walking distance, and if you do a good job, you shouldn't be here for too long."

"If I do a good job," she repeats, nodding unhappily. "Find out who's parading around Queens in a shitty onesie."

Stark lets out a giggle. "Onesie, I like that. I'm gonna take it."

Mikaela shoves his shoulder. "Dick."

He gives her a nudge back, stifling a smile. "You'll be done in no time, it'll be fine."

Mikaela looks at the TV screens, holding off a frown. Stark wants her to find out the identity of some kid who's been literally swinging around Queens, taking on petty thieves and stopping assaults, while dressed in a red and black onesie. FRIDAY hasn't been able to get a name yet, but Stark is confident that Mikaela will be able to do it, despite her setbacks. Mikaela, on the other hand, is quite worried that her setbacks will actually prevent her from getting the job done. But she doesn't want to tell Stark that. She doesn't want to disappoint him, especially after failing so tremendously with Ultron.

"You're not trapped here, though," Stark tells her, oblivious. "Feel free to go on walks and stuff. And come by the Tower if you need anything else."

"Yeah, of course," she nods, looking back to him with a smile. "I'll keep in touch."

"Good luck," he smirks, slapping her on the back, "And have fun."

Mikaela watches him leave, sighing quietly to herself, before she turns back to the mess of an apartment she now lives in for the foreseeable future. "God damnit," she mutters.

She first starts up her TV screens, pondering which one will be used for which task. Then she pins up a map of Queens on one of the walls, ignoring the way the wall seems to crumble every time she touches it. Using the TV screen nearest to the map, Mikaela begins by searching for all photographic and video evidence of the so-called "Spider-Man", checking the locations they were taken in and marking them down on the map in a black marker pen. It's only been a few weeks since the first sighting was published, but the kid sure has been busy since then, and people are going mad for him. Mikaela doesn't really get it, to be honest. The kid could do with a serious makeover and can be unbelievably clumsy at times, never mind the lame one-liners he comes out with. But, Stark is interested in him, so here she is.

She has to take a break after she runs through all of the visual documentation of Spider-Man. Sitting down on the cleanest-looking spot of the floor, Mikaela drops her head into her hands and massages the skin, groaning. The pain always gets worse when she uses her mutation, and it won't stop intensifying until _she_ stops. It can get so bad that her vision wobbles or darkens, or she has to run to the bathroom to be sick, but she has gotten better at learning her limits and not pushing too hard. She still has to push so that she can train herself to go for longer stints, but she doesn't want to end up vomiting every time she uses her mutation. That wouldn't look very badass.

After about ten minutes, the pain lessens to its usual monotonous drumming. Mikaela finally lifts her head, cracking her neck when she stretches it. She looks around the room again, at the horrible bed covers and mattress, and wonders how on Earth Stark expects her to sleep on that. She is no stranger to living in squalor, but you would expect that being put up in an apartment by billionaire Tony Stark would look a little different from this. Mikaela decides that it just won't do, and she'll have to spend some of his money on buying more agreeable sleeping things.

She takes $300 out of the backpack and separates it into a few different clusters, slid into several jeans pockets and jacket pockets. She puts the backpack behind one of the TV screens, knowing it is unlikely that anyone would think this kind of apartment would have something of value in it, but wanting to be as safe as she can be anyway - not that hiding it behind a valuable TV is safe, but heyho. It's not her money. She dons her black baseball cap and sunglasses before she leaves the apartment, locking the door behind her. She can hear someone on the other side of the door of her new neighbour, but she ignores it, walking away from them both to descend the staircase.

It is a pleasant day outside in a not-so-pleasant area of Queens, but Mikaela feels somewhat safe knowing that Stark has FRIDAY keeping an eye out for Mikaela's cap and sunglasses combo. She takes about an hour to go into the right shops and pick up an airbed, sleeping bag, and pillow, before she finds a Subway on the way back and orders herself a sub. She keeps an eye out for any action as she walks around, wondering where Spider-Man is just now, whether he's suited up and fighting crime, or whether he's off being his hidden identity. She hopes that he isn't a boring guy, so that if she ever catches him, she won't have an awful time watching him go about his boring day-to-day life.

When she reaches the top of her stairs back in her building, her neighbour's door opens to reveal a grumpy, old, scrawny skeleton of a man, scowling at her.

"Who are you?" he asks, squinting.

Mikaela adjusts her hold on the airbed's bag. "I live here. Who are you?" she replies, adopting an impeccable American accent that she's been using to try slip under the radar more - her natural accent would stand out and cause questions.

He shifts from foot to foot, his fist clenching while his other hand keeps a hold of his door as if ready to close it at a moment's notice. "Glenn. I live here too."

"Cool story, Glenn," she says, moving to put her key in her lock.

"I'm onto you, little lady," Glenn blurts.

"What?" Mikaela asks in aggravated confusion, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

"I'm onto you," he repeats, louder, pointing a finger at her. "I bet you're one of those alien things in disguise."

Mikaela closes her eyes for a moment, dumbfounded. "Okay, Glenn," she says eventually, turning back to her door.

"I bet you're some spy for the FBI or the CIA," Glenn continues.

"I'm fifteen, Glenn," Mikaela retorts, opening her door and stepping inside, being careful to not reveal the TV screens and map.

"I bet you're with the Russians. I bet you're with the British," Glenn persists, still pointing a shaky, bony finger at her.

"Yeah, keep going, Glenn, I'm listening," she tells him, giving him a false smile, before she closes the door on him.

She drops the airbed bag on the floor and sits on top of it to eat her sub, noticing the length of time it takes Glenn to finally go back inside his apartment and close the door behind him noisily. Who knew she'd meet such interesting characters in such an awful area?

When she finishes her food, she sets up her airbed, sleeping bag, and pillow, positioning them on the left side of the apartment so that they're a good distance from the infested bed. She sits down on her new, clean bed, and looks up at the map, noticing the lack of a pattern in Spider-Man's appearances. It seems to Mikaela that the kid just rocks up at any crime within Queens, rather than appearing in locations that are each an equal distance away from one particular location, which she could assume would be his home or hideout. So, is he tuned in to the police's radio channel? Or does he literally just swing around the place until he happens to come across something?

Mikaela watches through some of the videos again, playing them through the TV closest to her. She watches the way he moves, closes her eyes to listen properly to his voice, the tone and inflections, his vocabulary and phrases, and rolls her eyes at his terrible attempts to be cool. She watches each video from start to end, three times over, learning as much as she can about him from what she can see and hear.

"Where do you come from?" she asks the paused video of him on her TV. She tilts her head for a moment, thinking, and looks to the map. Maybe she could take note of where Spider-Man came from every time he appears at a crime, but that would require people already filming the event and managing to capture his entrance, and most videos begin when Spider-Man's already on the scene, clearly just videoing in reaction to his arrival. Although, they usually continue to video after the crime has been stopped, capturing Spider-Man's exit route.

Picking up a green marker pen, Mikaela takes a deep breath, tries to ignore the pain in her head, and starts going through the videos again. She watches Spider-Man as he makes his grand, dramatic exit from the scene of the crime, taking note of the streets he goes onto. She marks his path on the map by drawing a green line along the street, stopping when the video won't show her any more. Then, she goes on to the next video, marking down his exit path for that instance as well. She continues on like this for a while, but soon realises that while it may be a good start, it isn't getting her anywhere. She knows she needs to get into the CCTV cameras on the streets, looking at those particular days and those particular times, but that is going to take up a whole lot of energy that she just does not have today. So, instead, she searches on social media platforms for text documentation of Spider-Man's activities, ensuring to filter out any that don't have geographical tags on them. These locations she marks on the maps with red pen, because they can't be trusted without visible evidence, but some of them still might be genuine.

When she finishes, she takes a step back and looks at her work. Black and red X's are peppered across Queens, with green lines branching away from some of the black X's. So far, it all seems quite random, and she knows the only progress she has made today is the idea of checking CCTV cameras for Spider-Man's paths after stopping the crimes. It's not a brilliant idea, she knows, because he might not immediately return home after stopping a crime, and instead might continue on his rounds, or go for a snack, or go to the movies or something; but it is an idea, and it might well yield some results. She has a lot of work to do, and not enough mind-strength to do it, but she'll damn well try her best.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Over the course of that week, Mikaela loses all semblance of a sleeping pattern and eating pattern, only timing them after she feels particularly hungry or sleepy due to her energy-draining use of her mutation. She works at a task until she physically can't anymore, at which point she eats and goes to sleep, leaving it to her body to decide when she's had enough and needs to wake up again. She usually sleeps about two or three times a day, although she's finding that the ratio of sleep to work time is changing, demonstrating her body's ability to work at her mutation for longer now.

She has been going through the CCTV footage after each of Spider-Man's appearances and following him as far as she can before she loses him. All of his paths have been marked down in green pen on the map, and while a lot of them seem to be random or irrelevant, there are quite a few that point towards central Queens, so Mikaela figures that there's something important for him there. If he's smart, like she's worried he is, he's done this on purpose to throw off people like her, and he actually lives in Brooklyn or Harlem or something. Hopefully he's an idiot.

While more appearances are broadcasted on social media every second day or so, Mikaela started to realise that he only appears at certain times on weekdays. Usually, sightings were marked around 3pm or later, up until quite late at night, but never in the morning or early afternoon. Meanwhile, on the weekends, he could be spotted swinging about all damn day. Considering the pitch of his voice, the size of him, the times he is unavailable, and the stupid optimistic, polite way he has about him, Mikaela reckons he's still at school. He's just some nerd who has powers. She's still not sure the extent of his powers though, because he has mechanisms on his wrists to produce the weird web stuff he spits out at everyone, but he can also climb up walls and can take a lot of hits. Whether he's just real smart and has some special gloves on, or whether there's actually something else going on here, she's still uncertain. But she'll find out. Probably.

She has sent Stark an update with her findings, highlighting central Queens and the fact that the kid's most likely still at high school, but she wishes she had more to give him. If she keeps working though, she is confident that she will get something more.

"Okay," Mikaela says to herself after waking up from another recovery sleep. "What can I do?"

She looks over at the map of Queens and almost slaps herself when she realises a simple idea. Linking Google Maps to one of the TVs, she searches for schools in Queens, and focuses on the ones around central Queens. It wouldn't really make sense for him to go to a school further away than that, if he does actually live in central Queens like she hopes. She looks through her options, and stops on the third one.

"Midtown School of Science and Technology," she reads.

Surely a kid who is making his own weird web-shooter things is a science and technology genius, and surely he would therefore be going to this school. Right? There's only one way to find out.

Mikaela, with some effort, hacks into the school's system and peruses the student list, looking for young males. Of course, half the bloody school are young males, so that doesn't really get her anywhere, and they're all geniuses as well - there's no way she'll be able to differentiate between non-Spider-Mans and the real Spider-Man with this method. She'll have to actually go to the school and have a proper nosey.

Mikaela checks the time and decides she can fit in a quick sleep before she needs to be at the school for when classes finish. She lays down on her makeshift bed and curls into herself, falling asleep with a hand on her temple. For the first time in a while, she dreams. In her dream she finds Spider-Man, who encapsulates her in his web stuff when she tells him she's a mutant, and dangles her upside down from a nearby roof, ten stories in the air. He gathers a crowd underneath her head and they point and laugh and spit insults at her, until suddenly she's hanging from a tree and they have baseball bats and are hitting her like she's a fucking piñata. While she doesn't drop candy when they break her open, she _does_ break open, shattering into tiny metal fragments as if she's a machine. Then she looks at herself, startled, and realises she's in the body of the broken Iron Legion that Ultron occupied when he showed himself to the Avengers. She tries to snap at the people around her, but her voice comes out as his voice, and she cuts herself off, disgusted. She wakes up when Stark comes at her with the bat.

She realises quickly that she is shaking and sweating, and grimaces at the state of herself. "Christ," she mutters, sitting herself up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She's never had a dream like that before, but it sure as hell won't distract her because it was just a stupid dream. She knows she's not Ultron. "But if that kid thinks he's gonna wrap me up in that disgusting shit he's got another thing coming," she says to herself. Every so often she needs to speak to herself so that she knows she isn't losing her voice, but she has to be careful in case nosy Glenn next door is listening in.

Speaking of nosy Glenn, he's standing in his open doorway, glaring at her, for the fifth time this week, when she leaves the apartment. He still stands the same way, with one of his stupid little rat-hands clutching desperately at his door while the other points a scrawny finger at her.

"Don't think I've forgotten about you, little lady," he croaks.

Mikaela locks her door and adorns her baseball cap. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Glenn," she smiles sarcastically at him.

He scowls at her, his finger shaking in the air, and makes a weird noise in his throat that sounds half defeated, half irritated. Mikaela slips her sunglasses onto her nose and walks away from him.

"See you in a few hours, Glenn," she calls over her shoulder as she walks down the stairs.

It takes her about twenty minutes to walk to Midtown High, and when she gets there she still has ten minutes to spare before the end of the day. She picks a spot on a street opposite and leans against the wall, pulling out a mobile phone to pretend she's doing something else. People walk past her without sparing her a glance, parents drive their cars past to wait for their kids coming out of school, and nobody seems to suspect a thing. Mikaela smiles to herself and waits to hear the bell ring.

When the students start to spill through the gates, Mikaela lowers her cap ever so slightly and peers through her sunglasses at them. Her eyes glance from boy to boy, looking over their physiques and heights. She realises this is a lot harder than she thought it would be - the majority of these kids are slim and around Spider-Man's height or above. Most walk away in packs or pairs, or get into their own cars or their parents' cars, but she can't see any who sneak away by themselves. Considering the time between some of the sightings and the end of the school day, Mikaela reckons Spider-Man brings his stupid onesie to school with him, and therefore needs to get changed into it somewhere. It would make sense for him to do it somewhere other than inside the school, so she's keeping an eye out for anyone heading suspiciously to an alley or a public toilet or something.

She doesn't get anything.

When the last of the students walk out of her eyeline, Mikaela shoves the phone angrily in her pocket and stands up straight. Taking off her cap, she ruffles her hair and pretends to sort it as her eyes go grey and she searches for nearby CCTV cameras. She finds some near alleys and along quiet streets, but they just show normal people going about their normal everyday lives; they give her nothing on a school kid sneaking away to get changed into his wannabe superhero costume.

Considering that he might just be ill today and took the day off or had to leave earlier in the day, Mikaela begins her walk back to her shitty apartment, keeping her head high just in case she spots a blur of red swinging between the buildings. While she walks, she goes against what her body is telling her and monitors social media for any new pictures or videos of Spider-Man at the same time as monitoring the feeds of CCTV cameras. A lot of information goes up about the kid every day, with new articles covering the appearances of the day before, people posting or reposting delayed pictures or videos of sightings, and even some low-key news channels doing segments on him. It's a lot for Mikaela to rifle through without having the benefit of screens to filter it all, and after ten minutes she starts to really feel the effects of pushing herself.

The pain in her mind has never gone away since Ultron tore it to pieces, but when she pushes herself too hard it rises to a level that makes her slow and clumsy. She staggers along the pavement, determined to keep up her monitoring. But when her stomach turns in protest, she knows she needs to let go. In moments like these, it feels like she has let go of a weight that was dragging her down into a deep pit of mud, clogging up her senses and making her movements slow and weak. But the pain continues.

"Hey, miss, are you okay?" a familiar voice asks.

Mikaela looks at the ground and sees two red shoes with long red socks coming out of them. Of _course_ he would find her before she found him. "Oh my god," she hears herself saying as she stares at his hideous shoes. "It's even worse up close."

"Do you need help?" he asks.

When she feels his hand touch her shoulder, she lifts her head enough to look at him but still hide most of her face, and shrugs him off of her. "Back off, dude," she snaps in her American accent.

"Woah, okay, yeah, sure," he says quickly, holding his hands up in defense as he takes a step back. "Sorry."

Mikaela feels her face contort in irritated disgust. Not only is his outfit worse than she thought it was, but his entire being is just _blegh_. This job is the worst job she has ever had to do.

She starts to walk away from him again, highly aware of how stupid she must look, stumbling along like a drunk. She brings a hand up to rub her forehead, wincing at the pain, but soldiers on. She walks a few blocks before stopping again, turning around to face behind her. Her irritation with this kid has hit a whole new level.

"Stop following me," she tells him.

He approaches her slowly. "How about I just give you a hand home?" he asks tentatively, as if approaching a dangerous animal.

Mikaela drops her head back and groans loudly. After a moment of calm breathing, she lowers her chin again to look at him, standing there in his stupid costume with the stupid goggles. He really does look ridiculous in that outfit. He clearly doesn't have a lot of money, unlike some of the other students she saw leaving Midtown in expensive cars. Maybe there was an angle she could work there?

"I don't need a hand home," she says.

He rubs his hands together as if uncomfortable. "You kind of _look_ like you need-"

"Yes, thank you, I know what I look like," she cuts in irritably. "But try listen to the words I'm saying: I don't want your help, go bother someone else."

"Okay, alright," he relents, starting to move backwards. "Have a nice day." Then he lifts a hand and shoots a web off at the building across from them, jumping and pulling himself into the air.

Mikaela turns her back on him and starts walking again, pushing herself to get back to her apartment in time to track his path on the CCTV cameras. She keeps replaying the interactions in her head, getting herself more aggravated in the process, but also ensuring she doesn't forget what he sounds like - that could come in handy at some point. Something about his voice is just so _annoying._ It's the underlying tone of sincere empathy, she just cannot stand it. Nobody is that friendly or nice. _Nobody._

Eventually she manages to climb the stairs back to her apartment, throwing a "Not now, Glenn" over her shoulder as she walks into the filthy room, closing the door on her incessant neighbour. She locks onto one of the monitors and, with a grimace, brings up the CCTV feed of the street she met Spider-Man on. She has to blink hard a few times to clear her vision, but she finally finds him. For a few blocks, she is able to follow his path, but then he starts going faster and stops getting low enough for the cameras, and she loses him just like she always does.

"Fuck," she hisses, slamming her hand down on the table.

She needs to focus. She feels so close. She's starting to think she can actually finish this job for Stark. She needs the win.

"What do I have?" she whispers to herself, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. "His voice."

Suddenly she gets an idea. She swipes away all the CCTV cameras in the public from her mind, and searches instead for the cameras within Midtown High. There don't even seem to be many within the hallways, instead concentrated in the outdoor areas, and they don't have audio anyway. So, what else could get her audio in the school?

Social media. Schools love trying to be "hip".

She searches for Midtown High's social media presences and goes through their videos, struggling to find someone who sounds like Spider-Man. He doesn't really sound like he alters his voice or anything, so in theory it shouldn't be too hard for her to find him.

Mikaela feels a breath leave her and she takes a step back from the monitor, her eyebrows lifting.

A decathlon team.

And there he is, sitting in a panel of his teammates, answering a question in that stupidly friendly voice of his. She looks at the list of names.

"Peter Parker. I found you, you little shit."


	12. Spider Watching

**Chapter Twelve - Spider Watching**

" _Hey, kid, you got good news for me_?" Stark asks over the phone.

Mikaela sits in a heap on her airbed, clutching her temple. "Yeah," she replies, forcing a more upbeat tone. "Your kid goes to Midtown High School, his name's Peter Parker. Lives with a May Parker, his aunt and legal guardian. There used to be a Ben Parker too, uncle, but he was killed a couple weeks before the sightings of Spider-Man started. Both parents died in a plane crash years ago, he's been living in Forest Hills, New York, with his aunt and uncle ever since." She paused for a moment, wincing. "He's on a decathlon team."

She hears Stark snort. " _Not a fan_?"

"He's intolerable."

" _Well, you'll get used to him I'm sure_."

Mikaela closes her eyes wearily. "Stark.."

" _You've got nothing better to do, right? Why don't you just keep an eye on him for me_."

"Are you shitting me?" Mikaela retorts. "Get FRIDAY to do it."

" _You're much better at this than I am_ ," the Irish accent comes through.

"Stark told you to say that, didn't he?" Mikaela groans.

" _FRIDAY's not at liberty to discuss that, I'm afraid. Listen, Mikaela, this kid has got talent and a good heart. He's like a budding Steve Rogers. Normally, I would say 'down with this sort of thing', but he's got a lot of potential. Could be an Avenger one day_."

"So, _you_ watch him then," she mutters.

" _C'mon, Mikaela. I'm a world-renown billionaire superhero. I just don't have the_ time," he exaggerates. She can hear his dramatic pout through the phone. " _Also, you, me, and FRIDAY are the only people who know about this Parker kid. I don't want to put attention on him and make him a target._ "

Mikaela nods. "Meanwhile, you don't mind shoving _me_ in a dangerous neighbourhood alone with a bag of cash."

" _Exactly_ ," he replies, amused by her. Suddenly he sobers up. _"Listen, Ghostie, I don't want to trust someone else with this. I'm trusting you to keep an eye on the kid and make sure he doesn't get into anything that's too big for him_." Mikaela rubs her forehead and contemplates it for a moment. " _I might send down my guy, Happy, actually_."

"The driver?" Mikaela frowns, confused.

" _Yeah. Well, he's had some promotions since then. I don't know what he is now, I can't keep track. Pepper would know_."

"And what would Happy do here?"

" _Uh, y'know. Help out and stuff_."

Mikaela holds the phone away from her for a moment, staring blankly at the crumbling wall. She had thought she would be leaving this awful place once her phone call to Stark finished. Now she's going to have some random dude crash the most boring party she's ever suffered, and make it even worse.

She puts the phone back to her ear.

" _Did we lose her_?" she hears Stark ask FRIDAY.

"Unfortunately, no," Mikaela says. "I'm still here in this manky hell you punted me to."

" _I thought we agreed you wouldn't speak Scottish at me anymore_ ," Stark comments.

"No, you just told me not to. I didn't agree to anything. Plus you've pissed me off, I've earned it."

" _I'll make contact with him sometime in the next month_ ," Stark reassures her. " _Or two. Or, actually, I have this project so maybe_ -"

"Oh my God, stop," Mikaela groans. "Fine. I'll watch him for the _foreseeable future_. This Happy guy can pop in but I don't want a roommate."

" _Yeah, I'm sure that'll suit all parties_."

"Yeah," Mikaela replies, grimacing as the pain in her head increases. She isn't even using her mutation right now, but she hasn't slept since coming back from the school.

" _Hey, you okay, kid_?" Stark asks gently.

Mikaela sighs. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. And you're quite annoying, has anyone told you that?"

" _Multiple times, I'm sure, but I block it out,_ " he quips.

"I wish I could block you out," she huffs.

" _Oh, that was a sore one. I'm gonna go nurse this burn, okay? You keep me updated on Parker and I'll let you know when Happy's coming over. See you later_." He hangs up before she can say anything in reply, leaving her alone in the horrible apartment. Again.

Mikaela checks the time, and realises that Parker is most likely still swinging around in his onesie fighting crime. She really does not have the energy for it, but Stark wants her to make sure Parker doesn't do anything stupid. He'll probably only do that when he's dressed up, so she needs to watch him.

"God damnit, I hate you, Peter Parker," she mutters, dragging the nearby bin closer to her in anticipation of needing to throw up at some point during her monitoring.

She lifts her heavy eyes to the TV monitor closest to her and takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head. There's already been one sighting of him, getting a fucking cat out of a tree for a little boy. The people videoing him were completely taking the piss out of him, out of earshot of course, but being quite mean about him. Mikaela finds herself frowning as she listens, almost feeling sorry for the kid. He clearly wants to make a difference in his neighbourhood, but major criminal activities aren't that frequent in Queens.

When he returned the cat to the boy, the kids videoing him cheered sarcastically, but Parker turned and waved at them, oblivious. Mikaela cringes at his naivety. If he had an actual suit, maybe they'd take him more seriously. Or if he did stuff more significant than a cat rescue. But there's not much to be done about the lack of decent crime around the place.

Mikaela smirks evilly to herself. She could probably do something about that - find some criminals, plan out a crime for them, send the information over, give Parker a heads up, watch him make more of a name for himself - but she doesn't think Stark would approve of that. To be fair, she _would_ have all the information and evidence and could easily send it all to the police if Parker failed to stop them. _But_ , in his failure, Parker could get hurt, or worse, so it wouldn't be worth the risk in Stark's eyes. She would have to give it a pass, sadly.

For the next half four, Mikaela watches the cameras of Queens for signs of the kid, feeling herself get steadily worse and worse as the time drags on. She has had to lower the TV monitor she's watching to the ground as she leans on the bin in front of her, feeling consciousness seep out of her. It's especially frustrating feeling this way while she watches Parker swing about the city happily, calling out greetings to people and getting high-fives from others. He spends some time sitting on rooftops as well, looking out over the city. He puts earphones in under his mask and listens to bands like Alt-J, bobbing his head along to the music.

Mikaela hates him. He's so _happy_ all the damn time, it's unnatural. Especially after the amount of loss he's suffered. She just doesn't understand how he stays so positive and optimistic. He doesn't seem bothered by people calling out sarcastically at him - that or he doesn't realise it's not genuine - and he happily helps people in ways that don't require his powers or talents.

She doesn't know how she'll last watching the guy, it's exhausting and boring and he's so annoying. Plus this apartment is not getting any easier to live in and Glenn is just relentless in his suspicious rambling and she's so _tired_ and _sore_.

The phone she's using lights up on the floor next to her, and she sees a text from Stark: "You're really doing me a solid, kid. I owe you big time. Thanks."

Mikaela groans and leans her forehead on the edge of the bin. While she may be having a horrible time doing this, she knows she's not going to quit. And it's all because of Tony goddamn Stark.

xxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela has lost track of time. She doesn't really know if it's been a week or a month since Stark made her stay here longer, but she thinks it might be better that way. If she's been here for a long time, she'd rather not know the specifics, because it's miserable. She has had to push herself even more than when she was looking for Parker and she is seriously suffering for it. She barely has the energy to go outside anymore so most of her food gets delivered, she throws up and passes out way more than she'd like to, and the pain in her head is constant, like she's sitting with a bunch of knives lodged in her skull. It is her own personal hell. And, yet, she continues, because Stark needs her to. What has she _become_?

As for Parker, the kid is as optimistic and friendly as ever. He is perfectly content doing little things every day after school to help people in his neighbourhood, but clearly gets a thrill out of stopping crimes whenever he stumbles across them, and, to be fair to him, he does do a good job. He never seems to have a bad day and never misses his patrols, unless there's something he can't get out of. The one tolerable thing about the kid is that he seems to be doing it all for the people he helps, rather than for himself or for the fame. He certainly enjoys being recognised, but his sincerity is plain to see.

While he's at school, Mikaela listens in through the phone in his pocket. Often, everything is muffled and vague, but sometimes, like at lunch, she can hear him and his friend Ned speaking clearly when Parker has his phone in his hand or on the table. They talk the most amount of shite she has ever heard, but their conversations tell her a lot about Parker, and let her know that he hasn't even told his best friend about his alter ego.

When he goes out on his patrols, Mikaela is right there with him. She pushes herself so that she has his GPS location, thanks to his phone, while watching him through the city's cameras and the cameras of witnesses. She follows him everywhere he goes, painfully aware of how creepy it is, and makes sure he's not doing anything stupid. There have been a few times where he's picked an alley to get changed in that is within a CCTV camera's radius, and so she's had to scrap the footage, muttering to herself about his stupidity, but apart from those occasions he's usually intelligent enough.

When he eventually goes home for the night to sleep, Mikaela stays awake. She scours police and news reporters' resources, on the hunt for anything that might give away Parker's identity. They never get anywhere near him, but she checks just to be safe. Because he's just a little hero, the cops would face hardly any backlash for taking him in for his vigilante actions, and she needs to make sure that doesn't happen. However, she also needs to make sure that she is subtle about it all, because she doesn't need the cops thinking Spider-Man is able to hack into their systems or anything. That would add a whole new layer of trouble. So, she does more widespread damage, like a building-wide "software failure" that wipes out data from several different areas as well as Spider-Man's.

It's a lot of work for a fifteen year old kid, but she knows that Stark thinks he's worth it. Mikaela can see how he would eventually be a good addition to the Avengers, but this job is killing her - possibly literally.

While she builds some more tolerance every day, it is an almost imperceptible difference, and her work isn't actually getting any easier. She has to be alert for as long as she can, because danger could hit Parker at any moment. The only time she feels like she can sleep is when she's checked the police and news files on him for the night and he's still asleep. And even then, she feels uneasy about turning off. She spends every waking moment using her mutation until she passes out or willingly goes to sleep.

She is so fucking _tired_ of the pain and the barriers and the incapability. Maybe someday it will all be worth it, knowing now that she has more potential than she thought in her mutation; but "someday" looks really fucking far-off right now, and she's tired of waiting for it to come. How long does she have to work at her mutation before it all comes back to her like the way she had it before? Painless and simple and almost subconscious. It used to be a reflex, as natural as breathing, but now it is a decision and an _effort_ and she's just sick of it.

Her thoughts are interrupted by two sharp knocks on her door. She frowns at the monitor she's watching, not recognising the knock. If Glenn ever knocks, it's hard and frantic and goes on until she opens the door. This is different - refined, polite, sane.

Mikaela rises to her feet and crosses the room as silently as she can. The door has the dirtiest peephole in existence, but she can make out a figure wearing a black suit and sunglasses. She doesn't recognise it. If it was the cops, they'd announce themselves, surely? So who is it?

They knock again, the same two knocks, but a fraction harder. Mikaela just watches them.

"Kid, would you open the door? It's not like you weren't told I was coming," the figure says. It's a man, with an exaggeratedly authoritative voice.

Mikaela unlocks the door and pulls it open. "Happy," she greets.

He stands with his sunglasses and earpiece, a black suit, his hands crossed in front of him, holding a black briefcase. If she wasn't so tired, she would laugh.

"Mikaela," he replies, inclining his head.

She steps aside to let him in, giving Glenn's door the middle finger, knowing the pile of bones will be watching. Then she closes the door behind them and turns to her visitor. He is still poised in the same manner, twisting his head around to inspect the apartment. He even goes so far as to check the bathroom, as if she wouldn't have noticed someone breaking in.

"Satisfied?" she asks, moving to sit back down on her airbed.

Happy looks to the mattress against the wall as if considering sitting there, but wrinkles his nose at it and clearly decides against it. When he sees there are no seats nor clean spots on the floor, he puts the suitcase down next to him and slips his hands into his pockets.

"This place is disgusting," he comments.

"Yeah, well, you can thank Stark for that," Mikaela shrugs, looking at her monitors. Parker is out on patrol at the moment, so she's running on all cylinders.

"There's more money in the briefcase."

Mikaela merely nods, preserving her energy.

"So, how's the asset?"

Mikaela glances at him, frowning. "Is that what Stark's calling him?"

Happy shrugs a shoulder. "I'm kind of pushing it, trying to plant an idea. 'Asset Manager' has a nice ring to it."

"You don't stay in the one position for long, do you?" Mikaela comments, watching as Parker swings low enough to be seen by a street-level camera.

"I'm ambitious," Happy replies. "So, Parker?"

Mikaela sighs. "There's not much to report. I've got eyes or ears on him at all times, I'm making sure no one's getting too close to his scent, and he seems to be fine with his nightly rounds. Nothing too dangerous yet, mostly stuff even the cops would ignore, but I'm watching him."

"Good," Happy says. "I gotta be honest with you, I don't see why Tony wants to bring him in so soon. He's way too young."

"His youthful optimism is disgusting," Mikaela agrees. "Plus he's nowhere near ready to tackle Avengers-level shit. We don't know the full extent of his powers, or if they even are powers at all. I mean he seems abnormally strong but I'm not sure whether-"

Mikaela has to cut herself off to throw up in the bin next to her.

"Oh, jesus, what the hell?" Happy exclaims behind her.

Mikaela feels dizzy. She holds her head in her hands, closing her eyes against the room spinning. She is so hot and so tired and in such agony.

"You okay, kid?" Happy asks, his tone confused.

"Food poisoning," she manages to lie, grunting.

"Are you sure?" he asks, persistent.

There's something about that persistence and the tone of his voice that Mikaela somehow picks up. Maybe Stark has sent Happy to check on _her_ as well as her progress with Parker.

"Yeah, it was bound to happen with all the takeaways I get," she answers, squeezing her eyes shut against the rippling of her vision. "I'm fine."

Happy shifts on his feet behind her. "Tony says that FRIDAY hasn't picked you up on the street recently. Is your mutation coming back or are you just-"

"I don't need to go outside," Mikaela says, attempting a flippant tone. "I've got everything I need in these four monitors."

"Alright," he says, but he sounds unsure. "So, uh, have you engaged the asset at all?"

"Not since the day I found him," she answers, praying he'll leave soon so she can get back to her half-conscious slouching and vomiting in peace.

"That's good, we don't want him getting suspicious," Happy says. "Anything else to report?"

"No, ma'am," Mikaela replies, drained.

"Nothing about your own physical or mental state?"

She rubs at her forehead. "Just tell Stark I'm fine."

"Alright. Affirmative," Happy says. "I'll see myself out."

Mikaela glances over her shoulder at him as he leaves. "See you later," she calls halfheartedly.

He nods at her before closing the door behind him and descending the stairs. His black briefcase sits in the middle of the room where he left it, waiting for her. Mikaela stares at it for a moment, reluctant to count the money inside because it will give her an estimation of how long Stark expects her to remain for, and she's concerned it'll be longer than the next 30 seconds.

She realistically feels like twenty-four hours is as much as she has left in her. But she knows she felt like that seventy-two hours ago. She just takes it a day at a time. But she doesn't know how long she'll last like that for.

She turns her head back to face the monitors, and sees Parker has paused for a moment on the top of a building. He pulls his mask off and ruffles his hair, smiling gently at the view of the city bathed in the light of the setting sun. Mikaela is using a camera on the same roof, watching him side-on as he slowly walks along the rooftop. After a moment, he decides to sit down, pulling his phone and earphones out.

Mikaela uses a free monitor to get into his phone, letting the speakers play the song he chooses to listen to in that moment. She recognises it as a Bon Iver track, the name of which escapes her, but she feels a sense of calm wash over her as she looks at the sunset too. She has to admit, it is a beautiful sight, and a beautiful song. The moment itself would be beautiful, if she wasn't secretly watching Parker enjoy this private moment. But even then, she can't find it in her to hate anything about him right now. She closes her eyes briefly, imagining the warmth of the sun on her skin as if she were up there with him, and she feels a small smile grow on her face.

When she opens her eyes again, Parker has opened a picture on his phone. She recognises the man in the photo with him as his uncle, Ben. Parker smiles fondly at the phone, his eyes growing teary. Then a text pops up from his aunt, asking if he's coming home. He sends back a "Yeah x" and stands up, pulling his earphones out and shoving them and his phone back into a pocket.

Mikaela watches him as he swings his way to an alley somewhere to get changed back into his normal clothes. She keeps an eye on the alley's entrance as he changes, not wanting to be overly creepy, and then watches him utilise public transport the rest of the way home.

"Hey, Aunt May," he says as he walks into his home, his tone cheerful and fond.

Mikaela looks around at the shitty apartment she's in, feeling utterly deflated and, she realises, sad.


	13. A Family Holiday

**Chapter Thirteen - A Family Holiday**

Peter Parker sits in the back seat of the most fancy car he's ever seen, right next to Tony _freakin_ ' Stark. The billionaire. _Iron Man_. Peter is sat next to Iron Man. He still hasn't really comprehended _why_ , but here he is, and he is so excited he can barely contain it.

He can't believe Tony Stark wants _his_ help. He can't believe Tony Stark _knows_ about him, never mind actually sought him out. For a moment Peter almost wonders how Mr Stark found him, but then he remembers that the man is _Tony Stark_. Nothing is impossible for him.

Peter wants to converse with Tony Stark desperately, but it takes his brain and mouth a while to cooperate and make something intelligible.

"So, Berlin, huh?" Peter says eventually, his voice cracking with nerves.

"Yup," Tony Stark replies, calm and collected and so _cool_. "But we need to make a quick stop first."

"Uh, cool, yeah," Peter nods, pursing his lips awkwardly.

After a few minutes, they pull up to the curb in a not-so-safe part of town. Peter frowns, glancing around, concerned for the car. For some reason, he'd feel responsible if it got damaged here.

"Here we go," Tony Stark says, opening his door and getting out.

"Uh, Mr Stark, am I-" Peter tries, but the door closes before he can finish his question, leaving him to trail off, alone, "Coming too?"

After a moment's hesitation, Peter unbuckles himself and gets out of the car, hurrying to follow Tony Stark into the decaying building. They climb some filthy stairs with a broken handrail to the top floor, where they meet a door on either side of them.

Tony Stark goes to the door on the right and puts his hand on the door handle, turning to Peter over his shoulder. "Stay here, kid."

Peter glances at the door on the other side when he hears a noise from behind it, feeling uncomfortable. He takes a step closer to the door Tony Stark went through, which coincidentally allows him a peek into the apartment. He sees a map of Queens on one wall, covered in black and red Xs and green lines, and glimpses a desk with two monitors on it. One monitor looks to be a camera feed of the street he was just on, focused on the car he was just in. The other monitor, of which he can only see half, shows a street with a very familiar building.

"Is that my-?" he cuts himself off, frowning in confusion as he walks into the apartment.

Two more monitors come into view. One is displaying a muted news segment on him or, rather, Spider-Man, while the other displays some sort of weird file. His heart picks up its pace when he sees the letters "NYPD" on it.

"That's, uh.. I don't- Mr Stark? What's going on?" Peter stumbles, finally turning to look at Tony Stark.

The billionaire stands with his hands in his pockets, his eyes mid-roll, over an airbed with a girl slumped on it.

"A lack of respect for your elders," Tony Stark mutters.

The girl below him, with her back still facing Peter, snorts. "You just called yourself old. Nice self-burn," she says in an un-American accent.

"I said I was an _elder_. That doesn't mean _old_ ," Tony Stark responds, frowning. "It means _wise_ and suggests I should be listened to when I tell someone to do something," he claims, looking at Peter pointedly.

"Uh, I'm sorry, Mr Stark, but I saw the screens and- you know that's my building, right? Where I live?" Peter asks, beyond confused.

"Is it? I hadn't noticed," Tony Stark replies dismissively, looking elsewhere. "I love what you've done with the place."

"Yeah, well, you didn't give me much to work with," the girl says.

"Tell me something, why do _you_ look worse than this apartment?"

The girl lifts a hand to rub her temple. "I'm just tired."

Tony Stark scoffs, but seems as though he won't chase it further.

"Mr Stark?" Peter tries again, wondering if he should be concerned about this girl in a filthy apartment consisting mainly of monitors that all seem linked to Peter. "I'm sorry if I seem like I'm nagging or anything, but, um, why is my building on that screen? And-" he pauses, glancing at the girl's back, "What does it have to do with Spider-Man?"

The girl mutters something under her breath that Peter can't hear, but Tony Stark turns to look at him properly. "I had Mikaela find out who you were," he answers, shrugging.

Peter's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh," he blurts. He rubs his hands together, squinting at the two of them. "So, she-"

"Yeah, she knows you moonlight in a _terrible_ homemade costume and spend your days on a decathlon team," the girl - Mikaela - cuts in.

Peter's mouth moves but no sounds come out.

"Okay, I think we broke him," Tony Stark quips, looking down at the girl. "How would you like to vacate the premises?"

Mikaela stares up at him for a moment. "I swear if you're pulling my leg, I'm gonna fuc-"

"I'm gonna stop you there, while there's a young, impressionable boy in the room," Tony Stark interrupts. "It's not a joke. You did your job. You found him, then you kept an eye on him." Peter's head tilts at that, not having considered himself as someone who needed an eye kept on them. "It's time to go."

Mikaela is quiet for a moment. Then, "Go where?" she asks slowly, as if she anticipates something.

Tony Stark smirks, but it is somewhat bitter. "Berlin, to stop Rogers."

"What?" she asks, confused.

"C'mon, I'll give you the rundown in the car."

Tony Stark extends a hand to her and she grasps it, allowing him to help pull her to her feet. Peter notices the flicker of concern on the man's face when Mikaela stumbles, her other hand hurrying to grab his other forearm.

"You alright?" Tony Stark asks her, a hand on her shoulder to keep her steady.

"Peachy," she replies monotonously. "Let's go."

When Mikaela turns around and Peter finally sees her face, he frowns. Mr Stark was right - she does look worse than the apartment. She has massive bags under her eyes that stand out against her pale, sickly skin, and a scar on her cheek and underneath her jaw. Her movements are slow and unsteady, and she looks utterly exhausted. It reminds him of someone, but he isn't sure who for a moment.

Then it comes to him. "Are you the girl I tried to help home the other week?" he asks.

Mikaela meets his eyes, her expression severely unimpressed. He swears her irises change from grey to hazel, but it might just be the weird, broken light in the room.

"Yeah," she responds.

She follows Tony Stark out of the apartment after picking up a backpack and a briefcase, and Peter takes one last look at the monitors, frowning when he sees they're now black, before following too. He watches as Mikaela pauses at the door opposite. Tony Stark is continuing down the staircase, but the girl looks so ill, Peter feels conflicted about keeping on Tony Stark's heels to please him.

"Glenn, buddy," Mikaela says, pressing a hand against the chipped paint of the door, "You have been nothing but an annoyance to me. I will not miss you, nor will I ever think of you. I hope you rot in that apartment. Goodbye."

Peter watches her, wide-eyed, as she slowly makes her way to the stairs. He feels as though he should apologise for her words to whoever is hiding behind the door, but he decides his efforts would be better spent on making sure she makes it down the stairs safely.

"Stop hovering, you're making me uncomfortable," she tells him when they're halfway down.

"Oh, god, sorry, I'm sorry," Peter winces, stopping to let her get a few steps ahead of him. "I just- you looked a little-"

She stops abruptly and glares up at him, but she looks more drained than angry. "We are not having this conversation again," she says.

Peter remembers their first meeting and smiles apologetically. "My bad."

They continue down the rest of the stairs and head out to the car. Tony Stark is waiting next to it, holding a door open with one hand while he lifts the other to check the time.

"What took you so long?" he asks Mikaela.

"I was saying goodbye to Glenn," she replies, offering no further explanation as she gets into the car.

Tony Stark shrugs and gets in after her, closing the door behind him. Peter stands motionless for a second until he darts forward and around to the other side, resitting himself where he had been earlier. The car starts moving again once they're all buckled in, lapsing into a silence that makes Peter shift uncomfortably.

"Spit it out, kid," Tony Stark says to him.

Peter has a brief moment of near-hysteria when he remembers who Tony Stark is and what's going on. "Uh," he starts, far too loudly for his liking, and apparently for the liking of the girl next to him. "How did Mikaela-" he cuts himself off to address her instead, "How did you work in that place? All you had were monitors, no keyboards or mice or anything."

Mikaela sighs and looks at the billionaire across from her. "I assumed you wouldn't make me go through something like this after leaving me in that place for so long," she remarks, irritated.

Tony Stark smirks at her. "You assumed I would deal with this alone?" he retorts, gesturing at Peter, who laughs nervously, again uncomfortable.

Mikaela looks to Peter once more, observing him. "I'm a mutant," she says, pausing as if awaiting a reaction.

"Uh, cool?" Peter replies, wincing at his own uncertainty of the expected and accepted reaction.

Mikaela frowns slightly, her head tilting. Peter could swear her mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly. "I'm a technopath," she continues to explain. "I can control anything technological and can get into the internet, all within my own mind. The monitors were only there to help me link to the different assets."

"Speaking of," Tony Stark interjects, "What were you doing in the police files?"

"Happy didn't tell you?" she frowns at him. "I was making sure they weren't getting anywhere with their investigations. Same with the journalists."

Tony Stark's expression shows that he is impressed. "Good thinking."

"Wait, do you mean investigations into me? Into Spider-Man?" Peter frowns.

Mikaela nods, lifting a hand to rub her forehead. Peter sees that Tony Stark notices it.

"How are you?" the billionaire asks in a tone that suggests it is more than smalltalk.

Mikaela clears her throat. "Like I told Happy, I'm fine."

"You don't look it."

Peter feels as though he is overstepping his boundaries, listening in to this conversation.

"I'm still recovering," Mikaela says. "A mind doesn't recover that quickly."

"I thought the work would help," Tony Stark frowns.

Mikaela shrugs a shoulder. "It did. It has. I just had a lot to balance. But I can do more than I could a month ago."

"And the vomiting?"

Mikaela shifts. "That was food poisoning."

Even Peter can tell that's a lie.

"Bullshit," Tony Stark scoffs.

"Look, Stark, you had a job you wanted me to do. I did it. End of story."

"Not if it's hurting your recovery," the man counters. "You said it would help."

"In order for me to do my job properly, I had to push myself more than what was comfortable," she snaps. "Sometimes, that makes me throw up."

"Is that why you look like shit?"

She laughs bitterly. "I feel worse inside, trust me." Then she turns to Peter. "You watch the news, right? Remember Ultron? Sokovia?" Peter glances at Tony Stark before nodding. "I tried to stop Ultron and failed spectacularly. He ripped my mind to shreds, and now my mutation is taking forever to get back to how it used to be. Just in case you were lost."

The air in the car has gone tense very suddenly over the course of their conversation. Peter rubs at his hand relentlessly, the most uncomfortable he has ever been. Both Mikaela and Tony Stark are holding back anger and guilt, and not very well. They just seem to be taking it out on each other even though it started off as genuine care for each other. Peter is confused as to the nature of their relationship and why it's so aggressive.

"You should have told me you couldn't handle it," Tony Stark says, a little more gently.

"I _could_ handle it," Mikaela retorts. She gestures at Peter. " _Clearly_ I handled it."

"And look what it's done to you."

Mikaela groans. "I'm too tired for this shit. Can we stop?"

Tony Stark's face softens. "Yeah, kid," he answers, almost fondly. "We're going to drop Parker off with Happy, and then you and I are gonna head straight to Berlin. I'll put you up somewhere nice this time."

Mikaela smiles. "You better."

Peter blinks at the two of them, absolutely baffled. "You guys are weird," he mutters accidentally.

xxxxxxxxxxx

"See you in Berlin, kid," Stark says, giving a polite smile to Parker before he closes the door.

Mikaela watches the boy through the window next to her, the way his happiness never seems to falter. He gives them a wave, blowing air out his mouth in that "Wow, this is really happening" way. Behind him, Happy stands with his hands clasped in front of him, giving the car a nod. Both of them look a little silly, considering the fact that the windows are tinted and they have no idea whether Stark's looking at them.

The man of their attention has turned away from them both, sorting his suit jacket as he clears his throat. "Jesus," he mutters.

"It's too much, right?" Mikaela smirks tiredly, leaning back into her seat. She feels like she can relax now that Parker is out of the car.

"He's so _upbeat_ ," Stark says, confused.

She smiles and closes her eyes, giving in for a moment to her exhaustion.

"I'm sorry for grilling you, Ghostie," the man opposite her says suddenly. She opens her eyes again to see him looking out the window, his face twitching uncomfortably. That's when she knows he's being genuine. "I don't like the thought that you were making things worse for yourself just for me."

Mikaela breathes for a moment, shifting in her seat. "I just wanted to finish it. I wanted a win, after failing with Ultron."

"Why do you keep saying that?" he asks sharply, looking at her. He even goes so far as to remove his sunglasses.

"What?" she frowns.

"That you failed with Ultron. What do you mean _failed_?"

Mikaela blinks. "I tried to stop him and I couldn't. He beat me and you had to deal with it."

Stark's frown consumes his face as he shakes his head. "I was always going to deal with it," he insists. "Ultron was _my_ mistake. And him 'beating' you? That was _my_ failure. You shouldn't have had to do that."

They sit quietly for a moment, both feeling guilty and responsible. Mikaela rubs her forehead.

"So you pushed yourself this hard because you wanted to 'make up' for everything with Ultron?" Stark asks.

Mikaela looks away from him. "Pretty much."

Stark's leg bounces up and down for a moment. Then he stretches his foot forward to nudge hers. "You did more than I ever would have asked of you," he says quietly, awkward. "You had nothing to make up for. If anything, this whole thing with Parker has only put me more in your debt."

Mikaela can see from his face that she won't convince him otherwise. "Maybe we should just call it even?" she suggests.

He looks at her, and no doubt sees the same stubborness in her that she sees in him. "Alright, Ghostie. We'll call it even."

She smiles at him. Her eyes go to the bruising around his own, though, and she sighs. "What happened to your face? And why do you want to stop Rogers? What's he doing?"

He winces. "I assume you know Rogers' old pal, James 'Bucky' Barnes?"

"Yeah," Mikaela nods, "The Winter Soldier."

"He, uh, set off a bomb. Killed the King of Wakanda during a whole thing about the Sokovia Accords."

Mikaela frowns, but she doesn't have the energy to look any of this up yet.

"Rogers went rogue to find Barnes. We need to take them in, before they send the military to do it. This," he says, pointing at his eye, "Is from when Barnes went through us to escape."

"So, you had him?"

"For a moment," he mutters. "When he got out, Rogers and Wilson went after him."

"Jesus," Mikaela replies. She feels bad for Stark, she knows it mustn't be easy to chase your friends. "So, who's on your side?"

"You mean _our_ side?" he smirks. "Me, Romanoff, Rhodes, the King of Wakanda's son, Parker, Vision," he pauses, watching her, "You?"

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "I'm in no fit state," she replies. "Besides, how could I help?"

Stark smiles in an almost embarrassed kind of way. "I might have rigged something up for you after the Ultron incident."

Mikaela gawps at him. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," she decides, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll come with you just to make sure you don't all kill each other, but don't expect me on the ground with you guys."

Stark nods, relenting. "I figured as much. Listen, we've got a while to go, so why don't you get some rest?"

Mikaela's eyebrows lift. "It would be nice to sleep without keeping one eye open," she replies.

She lays herself down across the back seats and Stark takes out a pillow and blanket from somewhere hidden, tossing them at her. She gets herself sorted and almost closes her eyes, when force of habit has her taking out her phone.

"What are you doing?" Stark frowns at her. "You don't have friends."

"Em, excuse me, I know people other than you," she retorts, defensive.

"Oh, yeah? Then who are you texting?"

"Just because I'm not texting someone doesn't mean I don't have anyone to text."

"Sure. So, what are you doing then?"

Mikaela glances at him before looking back at the phone. The screen shows her tracking of the NYPD's files on Spider-Man and the journalists' too.

"FRIDAY?" Stark asks.

Mikaela drops the phone, sighing loudly. "I was just finishing my work for the day," she concedes.

"Your work?" he frowns. "Like, Spider-Man work?"

Mikaela huffs and pulls the blanket up to her chin. "It's been my routine for- well, I don't really know how long for but-"

"About five months."

Mikaela's jaw drops as much as it can when she's lying horizontally. "Fuck off."

He recoils in exaggerated offense. "I will not."

"Five months?" she repeats, thinking over her time in that apartment. She thought it had only felt that long because of her ailments. "I deserve a fucking medal. Or a raise. Or to be paid, full stop."

"Yeah, you're probably right," he sighs. "Although I did give you lots of cash."

"As if that was anything more than work expenses. That was not a wage."

"Oh my God, by the way," he says, changing the subject, "Earlier today, Parker told me he couldn't go to Berlin because - you ready for this? - he has _homework_."

Mikaela rubs at her forehead, wishing away the pain, but a smile forms on her face nevertheless. "That does not surprise me in the slightest. The kid is a straight-up nerd."

"If he was an adult, I would have hit him."

Mikaela feels her eyes close, an amused smile lingering on her mouth. After a moment of darkness she realises how rude it was of her to shut off like that, and that she needs to pursue the subject of pay further. But when she opens her eyes again, she's no longer in the car.

"Sleeping Beauty has arisen," a voice comments. "You look more like a zombie than a princess though."

Mikaela frowns. She sits up from her horizontal position, looking around the small space she finds herself in. Rhodes sits across from her, his head poking out of his War Machine suit, looking displeased but amused. Two seats down sits a forlorn looking.. person, with a golden gem on his forehead, technological-looking eyes, and red, non-fleshy skin. Up in the cockpit, she sees the back of Stark's head.

"How you feeling, kid?" the billionaire calls back to her.

She rubs her temple and does an internal scan. For once, she almost feels rested. The pain in her head is relatively subdued, and she feels very far from needing to vomit or black out. The truth is, it's the best she's felt in months.

"Better, somehow," she answers, still somewhat confused. "When did we get in here?"

"About six hours ago," he replies. He stands from his seat in the cockpit and approaches the seats, giving her a smirk.

She winces. "Did you have to carry me?"

"You were in the deepest sleep I have ever seen anyone have," he told her. "I did actually try to wake you up."

"Is being an ass _that_ exhausting?" Rhodes asks mockingly.

"Yes," she replies, dismissive. "Stark, where are we?"

"About half an hour out from Berlin," he says.

"When does Rogers get here?"

"Not for a while. He's got a contact who has sourced a chopper for him. It's waiting at the airport. But he still has to meet her to get all their gear."

"Christ, the guy doesn't hide his plans well."

"We had special help uncovering it."

Mikaela looks at him sharply, frowning.

He gives her a small wince. "Sorry, no. It's the Prince of Wakanda - they have very advanced technology and a shit load of resources, but no mutants. Or, no technopaths - I have no idea if they have mutants or not. You would assume statistically that-"

"I get it," Mikaela cuts in, shaking her head at him.

" _Tony, we're here. How far out are you?_ " Romanoff's voice comes in over the comms.

Stark walks back to the cockpit. "Thirty minutes," he replies after pressing a button.

When he continues fiddling, Mikaela turns back to look at Rhodes and the other person. "I assume you're Vision?" she asks the entity.

He takes a moment to lift his eyes to meet her own. "Yes, and you are Mikaela. I am sorry for what Ultron did to you."

Mikaela blinks at him, thrown by both his voice and his words. He sounds just like JARVIS. She realises she misses the system.

"You don't have to apologise," she tells him.

Rhodes clears his throat. "I might," he says. "I shouldn't have judged you like I did."

Mikaela smirks at him. "I didn't blame you," she tells him. "You got a horrible first impression."

"Yeah, well, turned out you tried to save Tony's life, so. The impression I got was wrong. You're a good kid."

Mikaela fights the urge to be sarcastic. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for being so aggressive that day."

They spend the next half hour avoiding a discussion of Rogers, but it still manages to be somewhat pleasant. When they touch down at the airport and the ramp lowers, they find Romanoff and a man in a black, seemingly metal, skin-tight suit.

"Where are you parked?" Stark asks casually as he saunters down towards them.

"In a hanger," Romanoff answers.

Stark nods at her before greeting the man next to her as "Your Highness."

Mikaela walks down the ramp after all the others, keeping out of the way. But the Prince sees her.

"Who is this?" he asks in an accented voice.

"Uh, this is Mikaela," Stark replies, stepping aside to allow a clear line of vision. "She's with me."

"She is a child. Is it really safe for her here?"

"She won't be in the fight. Besides, she can handle herself."

"What he means to say," Mikaela speaks up, having been not allowed the chance yet, "Is I'm a technopath - a mutant."

The stranger smiles at her. "My name is Prince T'Challa," he introduces politely.

Mikaela nods and shifts on her feet. "I'm sorry for your loss," she feels compelled to say.

He merely gives her a respectful nod in reply, before looking away from her.

"Alright, what's the plan?" Romanoff asks.

"We wait to see if Rogers shows. Then evacuate the airport, try talk some sense into him," Stark replies, tense. He looks to Mikaela. "You're gonna take this jet and stay close. You think you can handle cloaking it from them?"

Mikaela nods, her long slumber having given her some confidence she thought she would never regain.

"Okay. The other kid's gonna get here soon, Happy's dropping him off. Anything goes wrong for him, be ready to get him the hell outta here," Stark continues.

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "More babysitting."

"Hey, if you'd rather be down here, getting your hands dirty-"

"Shut up," she scowls, crossing her arms.

"You shut up," he retorts.

"Guys," Romanoff reprimands.

"We must be ready," the Prince says.

"Yeah," Rhodes scoffs bitterly, "To bring in Captain America."


	14. Civil War

**Alright ladies and gents. This friday I go on holiday to Disneyworld Florida! I'm super excited. BUT I am away for two weeks, so the next chapter will have to wait until after I get home unfortunately!**

 **I hope everyone is enjoying this story and the characters all seem true to themselves! Thank you to everyone who follows and favourites Fiinding Home, and thank you thank you thank you to the people who leave reviews - they are so lovely and really encourage me. I love hearing from you guys!**

 **Anyways. On with the chapter. Apologies again in advance for the wait for chapter 15.**

 **Chapter Fourteen - Civil War**

Mikaela holds the jet some distance from the fight, leaving it hovering in the air with the ramp down so she has a good view. So far, only Barton has spotted her - they exchanged a wave and a smile before he got back into the fight. She hid the machine from their technology, but she couldn't cloak the physical jet itself. She has realised her sleep hasn't fixed all her problems - she sadly still has limits.

Stark gave her an earpiece, thankfully, to save her from linking herself in to their communications and using up more energy, but she has also hooked herself in to Parker's new suit - courtesy of Stark - to keep an eye on his vitals and stuff. He's doing a good job of holding his own so far, but the more he does that, the less Rogers' guys pull their punches, and eventually something might go wrong.

Mikaela has to admit, while she has her concerns, the fight is entertaining. It's interesting to see how they use each other's weaknesses against them, having learned them from all their team exercises and missions. She also has never met nor seen a few of these people in action - Vision, T'Challa, Wanda, the guy who goes tiny, Wilson, Barnes, and Rhodes. Wanda is especially impressive; Mikaela often finds herself watching the young woman utilise her abilities in such gracefully powerful ways, in complete awe of her. She hopes this all gets resolved in the end so she can meet Wanda and the others.

She turns her attention back to Parker and watches as Rogers throws his shield at Parker's web, slicing through it. The kid sticks a landing and observes the shield returning to its owner.

"That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all," Parker comments.

Mikaela puts herself in his suit, allowing her to hear the Captain's reply. "Look, kid, there's a lot going on here that you don't understand," he says.

"Mr Stark said you'd say that. Wow," Parker replies, shooting a string of web out that connects to Rogers' shield. He sends another that latches on to Rogers' shins, and pulls on them both, bringing the man down to the ground which Parker promptly drags him across.

Shooting two more webs, Parker propels himself forward until his foot connects with Rogers's face, sending him flying into the object behind him.

"He also said to go for your legs," Parker laughs.

When Rogers runs for his shield, Parker catches both of the man's fists with his webs and uses them to hold him back; until Rogers turns and twists in the air, using the webs against Parker to yank him forwards where he hits the kid mid-air.

As they continue to fight, Mikaela moves the jet towards them a little, accepting that Parker is doing well in the fight, but remembering that the other combatant is _Captain America_.

Parker swings himself up onto a crate out of Rogers' reach, allowing a breather.

"Stark tell you anything else?" Rogers calls up to him.

"That you're wrong. You think you're right. That makes you dangerous," Parker replies simply.

He jumps backwards and shoots a web out, swinging himself underneath the crate he was stood on. But Rogers jumps into the air and kicks Parker, sending him into the machinery holding the crate above him.

"Guess he had a point," Rogers comments. Then he throws his shield into the other piece of machinery holding the crate, breaking it, and letting the crate fall down towards Parker.

"Fuck," Mikaela breathes, feeling panic blossom in her chest. Her fists clench, ready to fly the jet right into Rogers' fucking face.

But Parker catches the crate, and he holds it.

"You got heart, kid. Where you from?" Rogers asks, as if he didn't just take a huge risk nearly killing Spider-Man.

"Queens," Parker strains.

"Brooklyn," Rogers smirks, before running off.

"Hey, Parker," Mikaela projects herself into his earpiece, "You alright under there?"

"Mikaela?" he asks, grunting. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm awesome."

She frowns down at him, watching the crate get closer to the ground. "Bend your knees and lift or you'll hurt your back," she quips, ignoring the tightness of her chest. A couple of seconds tick by. "Do I need to call in some assistance?"

"No," he grinds out.

She sees it lower slightly, but then suddenly it lifts into the air again and Parker dives out of the way before it crashes to the ground. He bends over, his hands on his thighs, sucking in air.

"Woah. Did you see that?" he asks, giddy.

She rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifts. "Yeah, bigshot, I saw it. Why don't you get back into the fight?"

"I was gonna," he replies defensively. "When this is done, by the way, you and I need to discuss your spy job."

"Nah," she decides.

Before he can reply, the guy on Rogers' team who can go tiny suddenly goes very, _very_ , big.

"Holy shit! Are you seeing this?" Parker exclaims.

Mikaela's face contorts at his question. " _No,_ I _can't_ see the fucking massive guy in the middle of the airport!" she snaps.

The now-big man has grabbed a hold of Rhodes by the legs. He pulls his arm back for maximum swing strength, before throwing Rhodes through the air towards a stationary plane. Parker jumps at the chance.

"I got him!" he calls, shooting a web to catch Rhodes before he hits the plane, allowing him time to slow himself down and turn away, using his thrusters to speed back.

Parker keeps himself attached to Rhodes as he flies back to the big man, hitching a ride. Rhodes sends missiles off at the guy, doing little damage. Parker then attaches a web to the big guy's arm and swings himself around it to gain enough momentum to deliver a powerful kick to the giant's head.

Parker continues to swing around their enemy while the others keep fighting at his feet. The kid finally gains a footing on the giant's back and crawls up him onto the back of his head, and round over the front, peering in through the guy's lenses. When he tries to swing around the other arm, the giant manages to shake him off, dropping him back to the ground.

Mikaela watches him, praying he won't do anything stupid like get stood on. Luckily, he backs away from the giant and observes him, clearly trying to come up with a new plan of attack.

"How can you take down a giant?" he mutters to himself.

"I've got a bad feeling about this shit," Mikaela sighs, frowning. "Don't do anything stupid, Parker. I'm supposed to be watching out for you."

"Oh my God, that's it! You're a genius!" he exclaims. He quickly propels himself back into the vicinity of the fight, calling out to the others. "Hey, guys! You ever see that really old movie? _Empire Strikes Back_?"

Mikaela is disgusted. "Really old?" she repeats in disbelief.

He starts to swing himself around the big guy again. "You know that part, when they're on the snow planet," he shouts, "With the walking thingies?"

"You mean Hoth and the AT-ATs, you ignorant slut," Mikaela mutters to herself.

Parker wraps his web round and round the big guy's knees, trapping them together. Rhodes and Stark fly up to the big guy's face in sync, and deliver simultaneous blows to his chin that send him stumbling backwards.

"Yes!" Parker cheers. "That was awesome!"

But then as he swings away, the big guy's hand flails out, hitting Parker hard. He loses grip of his web and is sent flying across the airport, crashing through some wooden crates before skidding to a halt on the tarmac.

"Shit. Mikaela!" Stark calls.

"Yup," she replies tensely, already holding on to a handrail while she steers the jet towards the kid's prone body. The suit is reading signs of life still, but that doesn't mean he's unharmed.

Stark has to calm Parker down when he wakes up and immediately adopts the "fight" of the "fight or flight" mode, reminding the youngster they're on the same team.

"Hey, man," Parker pants after realisation dawns on him. "That was scary."

Mikaela lands the jet nearby and quickly descends the ramp, checking her surroundings to make sure no one will attempt to pirate it.

"You're done, alright?" she hears Stark say. "You did a good job. Stay down."

"What? I'm good, I'm fine," Parker insists over the top of him. "No, it's good. I gotta get him back!"

"You're going home or I'll call Aunt May!" Stark threatens.

Mikaela slows from a jog to a walk as she approaches them, ready to take over.

"Dude," Parker complains.

"You're done," Stark commands, flying away.

"Wait," the kid insists weakly. "Mr Stark wait, I'm not done, I'm-" he tries, getting into a crouched position before having to sit back down. "Okay, I'm done. I'm done," he concedes.

Mikaela stands watching him with her arms crossed. "Alright, tough guy. Time to go."

He lifts his head to look at her, then extends an arm. "I need help up," he says.

She grabs his forearm and pulls him to his feet, even going so far as to put his arm over her shoulders to support him as she leads him back to the jet. She gets him to lay down on the seats and puts a couple of belts over him just in case, telling him he'll breathe better without his mask on, no matter how much Stark praises his new suit.

She gets the ramp lifted and heads to the cockpit, trying to use her mutation only to get it flying again. She smiles proudly when it rises into the air, but then she notices something in the distance.

It's another quinjet, racing away from the airport with Rhodes and Stark hot on its tail, and Wilson hot on their tails. Mikaela's smile fades as she watches, feeling her chest tighten again for some reason. She doesn't want to ignore her gut, so she moves the jet forward, following after the group.

Suddenly a blast from Vision's gem misses Wilson and stretches on, straight over Rhodes' chest. When his thrusters stop and he starts to fall, Mikaela knows he's lost all power.

She makes the jet go faster, as fast as it can, until she gets to a point below Rhodes' fall. She runs to the bottom of the jet, past a barely conscious Parker, and opens the ramp again, struggling to see above her.

She glares into the sky, trying her best to stretch her mind upwards. But she can't get a grasp of Rhodes. His suit is completely powerless.

"Mikaela? What are you doing?" a weak voice comes from behind her.

She can see that Stark and Wilson, despite their attempts, won't reach Rhodes in time.

She moves the jet back, and times Rhodes' fall.

When it's right, she takes a running jump and throws herself from the jet, colliding mid-air with Rhodes.

"Jesus, Mikaela, what are you doing?" he shouts at her.

" _Mikaela_!" Stark yells.

Mikaela looks at the scarred arc reactor in Rhodes' chest, ignoring the way the ground is rushing up towards them. She has wrapped her legs and an arm around his metal suit, and so only has one hand to try fix the problem.

Disconnecting from the jet, she places her palm over his chest and closes her eyes, trying desperately to feel something in the suit.

But there is nothing left.

All she has done is make sure Rhodes will have company in his fall.

"Tony, come get her!" Rhodes shouts, angry, panicked, and scared.

"No!" she shouts, both at him and herself. "I can _do_ this!"

She makes the mistake of glancing down. They have seconds left.

" _Fuck_!" she bellows, digging her fingers into the broken arc reactor, anger surging through her in a massive wave that bursts through her skin in an immense _pulse_.

She feels life ignite beneath her fingers and Rhodes' thrusters turn on again, abruptly halting his fall. Mikaela slips from his suit, but he manages to grab a hold of her arm before she separates from him completely. Pain sparks inside her arm and she winces, but when she looks up at Rhodes and the blue light emitting from his chest, she laughs.

"Holy shit, kid!" he snaps, obviously reeling.

He lowers them enough that when he lets go of her, she lands softly on her feet. Within an instant, Stark lands very _heavily_ next to her, his helmet sliding away to reveal an enraged face.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he shouts, grabbing her shoulders.

Mikaela feels dizzy from her success, but for the first time in a while, it's a _good_ dizzy. She can't help but grin up at him. "I knew I could do it," she tells him. "I needed an extreme incentive, just like the last times."

His jaw is clenching and unclenching faster than she can keep track of, the muscles in his face twitching erratically. His eyes are wild with anger and panic, his grasp of her almost painfully firm.

"You scared the shit out of me, kid," he says through clenched teeth. "Don't do that again."

"Don't listen to him," Rhodes says as he approaches them. He gently slaps a metal hand on her free shoulder. "You saved my life, Mikaela. I owe you big time."

Wilson appears from behind them. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm glad you're both okay."

Stark lifts his palm and blasts Wilson away from them. "Alright. _You_ go take Parker back to the hotel," he snaps at Mikaela. "We need to bring in these assholes." Before she walks away, he awkwardly brings her in to his side for a moment in a metal side-hug, still aggressive in his grip on her.

Mikaela reconnects to the hovering jet and sends them massive smiles, astounded that she is still going strong. She lowers the jet back to the ground but makes sure the ramp entrance is facing away from the audience, remembering the unmasked Spider-Man on the seats.

With a final wave at a still-tense Stark, Mikaela skips up the ramp and closes it behind her. She glances at the youngster sprawled out next to her, having managed to unbuckle two of the belts she had put over him.

"Did you try to escape?" she frowns at him, smiling. She can't stop.

She used her mutation to restart Rhodes' arc reactor and she _doesn't_ feel like she needs to pass out or throw up!? She can't fucking believe it. She has waited so long for progress like this.

"You looked like you were about to do something stupid," Parker frowns, exhausted. "Did you jump out the jet?"

She can tell he would be annoyed at himself for not being able to free himself if he knew she _had_ jumped. "No, I didn't jump out of the jet," she lies, walking to the cockpit. "Now lie down and shut up, you need to recover before you get home."

xxxxxxxx

Once Mikaela dropped Parker off with Happy at the hotel, she got a message from Stark that said to meet him back at the Avengers facility outside New York City.

She is still on an all-time high, wondering at the feat she pulled off in Berlin. She replays the moment over and over again in her head, remembering the surge of pure energy that tickled every nerve in her body. The most amazing thing is that she still feels alert and competent, despite having spent so much energy. For the past five months she has barely managed to stay connected to a few cameras and databases without needing to vomit or pass out; but _now_ … she restarted a fucking power source and she is standing upright in a jet that _she_ is controlling with her mutation alone, completely awake and with a completely stable stomach.

 _This_ is what she has been waiting for ever since Ultron had a field day in her mind. The pain in her head is the most subdued it has ever been, and she is starting to feel the wealth of possibilities and resources at her fingertips again. It's like her energy surge has reconnected parts of her mind, fixing the broken links of her mutation. She is starting to feel like herself again, and it is _glorious_.

When she reaches the facility, she uncloaks the quinjet and lowers it onto a free landing pad. With a giddy click of her finger, the ramp lowers itself to the ground, letting in a breeze of fresh air that smells an awful lot like victory.

The facility is huge, expanding over a great expanse of land that is bordered by tall trees to hide them from any passer-bys. There are staff busying about the place, some military-like, some scientist-like, some doctor-like, but none of them spare her a glance.

"Mikaela," she hears someone call out to her.

She turns to see Romanoff sauntering over, a sad smile on her face. "Hey, Romanoff," Mikaela says, smiling back at her. She hasn't been able to wipe her smile off her face since Berlin - Happy was tremendously confused when he saw her.

"You look proud," the woman observes, the smile turning into a smirk. "You should be. You saved Rhodey's life."

"That shit was mental," Mikaela grins. "But the best thing is that I feel totally fine after doing it."

Romanoff frowns gently. "What do you mean?"

Mikaela realises Stark hasn't told anyone about her struggles. "After Ultron, I thought I lost my mutation. But I knew from what I did to the Iron Legion that there was more to my mutation than I had thought. Another instance like that started my recovery, and I could use my mutation again, but it left me exhausted and ill. Stark's had me monitoring Spider-Man for the past five months and even that has been really difficult for me to handle. I can't even tell you how many times I vomited and passed out because I pushed myself too much. But, now, I just used a shit-tonne of energy, and I haven't passed out or vomited once!"

Romanoff quirks an eyebrow. "That is the most I have ever heard you speak."

Mikaela winces. "Yeah, I know the whole excited thing doesn't suit me," she admits. "It'll calm down soon I'm sure."

Romanoff smiles. "You don't need to calm down. You did a great thing."

"Thanks," Mikaela smiles back, genuinely appreciative. For a moment she worries she's spent too much time around Parker's infuriating optimism, but the fact that she's worried tells her that she's not contaminated.

"Why are you holding your arm like that?" Romanoff asks.

Mikaela glances down. "Oh, yeah, it's definitely broken," she remembers. "Someone should really look at it."

Shaking her head, Romanoff turns and starts walking back to the main building of the facility. "C'mon, I'll take you down."

They go through corridors and take elevators down to the medical levels, where Romanoff instructs a doctor to take a look at Mikaela's arm. All she has to do is literally _look_ at Mikaela to confirm her suspicions.

"Judging by the swelling and bruising of the upper arm, I'd definitely say it's broken. Your shoulder appears dislocated too," the doctor says. "But we'll get you in for an X-ray to see where the break is and what kind of break we're looking at."

Over the next hour, Mikaela has her arm X-rayed, and a treatment plan set out for her. They offer her painkillers, but she isn't actually too bothered by the pain. It seems the wounds Ultron gave her have increased her pain tolerance, which admittedly could come in handy.

Romanoff sits with her the entire time, keeping her company. While they sit in silence for a lot of it, Mikaela wouldn't have asked for anything else. Until her curiosity sparks.

"So, who got away?" she asks.

Romanoff lifts her head to look at the mutant. "Steve and Barnes," she answers.

"How?"

Romanoff smiles tensely. "I let them. Steve really believes that Barnes didn't set the bomb, and I knew he wasn't going to stop. I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

Mikaela's eyebrows lift in mild surprise. "Fair enough," she nods.

They sit quietly for another moment, until the red-haired assassin speaks up again. "We were all worried about you after Ultron's attack," she says. "We didn't know what he'd done."

Mikaela shrugs. "He tore my mind apart," she explains. "But, without going through that, I think I might not have been able to help Rhodes."

Romanoff nods understandingly. "What doesn't kill you," she recites, smiling, leaving the rest unspoken.

"Where's Banner, by the way?" Mikaela frowns, suddenly wondering.

Romanoff's smile falters. "We don't know. He disappeared after we stopped Ultron. Took off in a quinjet and hasn't been back since."

Mikaela frowns. "Oh. Stark didn't say."

"He's had a lot going on lately. I think he and Pepper broke up as well."

Mikaela's frown deepens. "Jesus, I had no idea. The guy really keeps a tight lid on some things."

"Not when it comes to you," Romanoff smirks. "I can't believe he's adopted another kid after the stress you've put him through. I'm pretty sure it's aged him about ten years."

Mikaela snorts. "He has _not_ adopted me," she denies. "He has _employed_ me. As for the insect," she shrugs, "I reckon Stark will project some daddy issues onto him."

The doctor enters the room again with a clipboard in hand. "We're going to have to do a little surgery just to make sure the bones are aligned for healing."

Mikaela nods at her. "Sure."

"I should probably tell Stark," Romanoff sighs. "Will you be alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Mikaela assures her. "See you in a bit."

xxxxxxx

Mikaela lays stretched out on a sofa, her right arm in a cast to heal the break. She feels a little out of it after the anaesthetic, but she's utterly content and relaxed.

Vision walks into her line of sight and stares down at her. "I must apologise again for your suffering," he says softly. "If I had not-"

"Please, don't," she winces uncomfortably, waving her left hand dismissively. "This is nothing. It's barely anything."

"Yes, well, it could have been prevented."

"Prevented, shmerfented," she says, waving her hand more. "I'm fine."

"Can I have a minute with the kid?" Stark's voice breaks in, tense.

Vision looks somewhere over Mikaela's head, and then his eyes drop, guilty, and he quietly leaves the room. Stark comes around the end of the sofa, his own arm in a sling.

Mikaela gasps and points at it. "We're twinsies!" she exclaims, giggling.

His mouth twitches underneath the stoney surface. "Yes. You and I are twins," he replies sarcastically. When she just smiles at him stupidly, he shakes his head and sits on the end of the sofa. "You're far more impulsive and reckless than I am."

Mikaela gives him a look. "I would argue against that if I was the one picking the words coming out of my mouth."

"I know what I am," he retorts. "But I'm an adult. I'm allowed to be that way. You're just a kid. You're way more fragile and you should really take better care of yourself."

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "You're only giving me this lecture because I jumped out of a plane without a parachute."

Stark glares at her. "Why'd you say that like it's a ridiculous reason?"

"Uh, because it _is_ ," she retorts. "Rhodey would have died if I didn't jump. You and Wilson weren't going to catch him."

"You couldn't have known that."

"It wasn't worth the risk," Mikaela counters.

Stark watches her. "What _risk_? You don't know him. As far as I know, you two weren't fans of each other."

Mikaela's face contorts in confusion. "First of all, I had no ill feelings towards Rhodey. And, secondly, the risk was that you would lose your best friend," she replies, shrugging. "I thought that if I could prevent you from enduring that grief and pain and loss, then I better try my damn best."

Stark's body tenses and he looks away. His free hand fiddles with his sling, anxious or irritated or both. Then he looks at her again, sharply. "And if I had lost both of you?" he mutters.

Mikaela stares at the floor for a moment. Then she blows air out of her mouth harshly, making a "Pfffft" noise. "It wasn't a possibility."

"Okay, you act all confident _now,_ but I saw your face, Mikaela. There was a moment that all I saw was panic, because your first attempt to fix the suit didn't work. You thought you and Rhodes were _both_ going to die," Stark snaps.

Mikaela pouts at him with a frown. She has to admit that he isn't wrong. "Better to die trying than not try at all," she says after a moment, absolutely chuffed with herself for coming up with it. What a _solid_ argument.

"You need to stop," Stark hisses. Mikaela recoils, astounded that her line didn't persuade him. "Your life is worth more than you think it is. You need to stop _risking_ it like this." Those wild, angry eyes of his are back, and _burning_. "Like it or not, there are people who care about you, Mikaela, and you have to take that into consideration before you do all the _stupid_ shit that you do."

Mikaela sinks into herself. "Did you do that in New York?" she asks pointedly.

His jaw clenches. "That was different. The whole city would have been destroyed if I hadn't taken the nuke through the wormhole."

"Yeah, well, I was sure a whole lot of shit would be destroyed too if I didn't try to stop Ultron. And I knew that this rift between you and Rogers would only get worse if Rhodes died in the conflict, so I stepped in," Mikaela explains.

Stark looks down into his lap, lifting his free hand to rub at his forehead. Mikaela knows he is beyond stressed with this whole thing, and with Pepper and Banner, but she hates it when he doesn't understand her perspective.

"Involving you in this was a mistake," he says quietly, shaking his head.

"I survived, didn't I?" she frowns.

"No, I didn't-" he cuts himself off, frustrated. "I'm not talking about that anymore."

"Then what are you talking about?"

He sighs, looking down at his feet. "This is hard for me." Mikaela stares at the side of his head, confused. "Watching you risk your life like that is hard. For me." He looks upwards and shrugs, his lips pursing. "I don't know why. But I have a harder time watching you almost die than anyone else."

Mikaela lays there for a moment, processing his words. Fuelled by her anaesthetic-induced softness, she tucks her legs into herself and pulls her upper body up against the back of the sofa. Once she is sitting upright next to him, she leans into his side and drops her head on his shoulder. He tenses for a few seconds, but ultimately decides to go with it, and leans his head on top of hers.

The next thing Mikaela knows, she's alone on the sofa again, wondering if that even happened, with a serious Romanoff in her face.

"Where's Tony?" she hears herself ask in a small voice.

"He went to the prison they're keeping the others," Romanoff replies, sounding uninterested and aggravated. "I have a favour to ask."

Mikaela frowns, sad now that Stark has left her. "Okay."

"When this is over, Cap is going to want to break everyone out of the prison. I'll need to go into hiding with them," Romanoff explains. She takes a deep breath. "I know you and Tony are close. But if we asked you for help, in terms of a prison-break and-"

Mikaela scoffs. "Of course I'll help you. I didn't take a side in this. And Stark probably wouldn't want everyone in that place anyway."

Romanoff gives her a small smile and a nod, and then she's gone.


	15. The Aftermath

**I'm back! I'm sooooo jet-lagged. But, I promised a chapter, and so here it is.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter Fifteen - The Aftermath**

Mikaela wakes up after her second post-surgery nap, feeling much more clear and alert. Vision is stood looking out of a window across the room, silent and static, but apart from that, she's alone.

"Is Stark back yet?" she asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her one free hand.

Vision turns to look at her side-on. "No," he replies in JARVIS' voice. "How are you feeling? Is there much pain?"

Mikaela gives him a polite smile. "I'm fine. It's nothing I can't handle." She's just glad that, for once, her mind is not the part of her in the most pain. Although, the broken arm is tiny in comparison to what she's been going through the past five months. "I'm going to see if I can locate Stark," she tells her company. He gives her a nod and turns back to the window.

She relaxes in her seat and takes a deep breath, letting her eyes fall closed. She lets her mind expand, ignoring the twinge of pain between her temples, and searches for traces of Tony Stark. She finds an echo of his presence on the underwater prison housing Rogers' team, but he isn't there anymore. She notices a communication between him and a man called General Ross, who seems to be in charge at the prison.

The communication shows that Rogers was right, that Barnes didn't set the bomb, that he's innocent of that at least.

Mikaela watches through the cameras as Stark gets into his helicopter, then she shifts to the helicopter as it takes off from the prison's landing pad. She watches him remove his sling, press a button next to him, and get engulfed by an Iron Man suit sat waiting in the chopper.

When she watches him fall out the helicopter, she shifts to the suit, tracking its path. When she catches up to him, she sees that he's back with Rogers and Barnes, and they seem to be cooperating.

Mikaela had heard what Rogers said to Stark before they fought in Berlin. There were more soldiers like Barnes, and the guy who framed him is going to use the soldiers.

She feels uneasy sitting back while they are about to take these soldiers on. So, she leaves the room quickly and heads back up to the landing area, her eyes glued to the quinjet that brought her here. Nobody tries to stop her, so she lowers the ramp and marches up and inside, activating the engines.

In no time, she is flying across a dark, angry ocean. But her eyes are somewhere else, seeing out of a metal suit. It will take her hours to get to Siberia, she knows, but _trying_ to get there on time feels so much better than sitting helplessly outside New York would have. Worst comes to worst, she'll clean up the mess and destroy the soldiers in a murderous rampage.

"I got heat signatures," she hears Stark say as they enter a big room.

"How many?" Rogers asks.

"Uh, one," Stark replies.

They walk into the dark room, cautious and confused. Mikaela feels her gut twist uncomfortably. Suddenly lights turn on around them, illuminating these weird, frozen tanks. There are bodies in them, but the machines around them read no signs of life.

" _If it's any comfort, they died in their sleep_ ," an accented voice says over a speaker.

Mikaela sees through Stark's suit that the soldiers have all been shot in the head.

" _Did you really think I wanted more of you? I'm grateful to them, though. They brought you here_."

Mikaela finds the guy and turns the light on in his little observation room, illuminating the scumbag for her friends. She can see the way he flinches, but he hides his shock well otherwise. Rogers throws his shield at the window, but it bounces off and returns to him, having done no damage.

" _Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets_ ," the man says snidely, turning on more lights.

"I'm betting I could beat that," Stark calls out.

" _Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr Stark. Given time. But then you'd never know why you came_."

Mikaela winces as a sharp stab of pain flourishes in her mind, but she holds on to Stark's suit.

"You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?" Rogers asks, approaching the window.

" _I've thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here, I've just realised, there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw_."

"You're Sokovian," Rogers deduces. "Is that what this is about?"

Mikaela has looked for bombs or fires or other people, but she can't find anything other than this lone man. She has no idea what his grand plan is.

" _Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I'm here because I made a promise_."

Rogers nods. "You lost someone?"

" _I lost everyone_."

Stark shifts uncomfortably, so Mikaela links in to him. "I'm with you, Stark," she tells him.

He manages to stifle a frightened jump. "Jesus," he hisses quietly.

" _And so will you_ ," their enemy continues.

When he reaches for a button, Mikaela poises to strike. But he's only played a video on the screens in the room. She frowns, wondering how a video could do any damage.

" _An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That's dead. Forever_."

Stark slides his helmet away and joins Rogers by a screen. Mikaela follows her gut and watches the video privately, fast-forwarding through it.

She sees Barnes kill Stark's parents, and she closes her eyes, her heart hurting. She knows she can wipe the video and stop Stark from ever having to see it. She could prevent the epic fall-out that this new knowledge would cause.

But who is she to decide he shouldn't see it? He has a right to know what happened to his parents. It will break his heart, but she cannot possibly retain this knowledge and not share it with him. It would be unfair. He has to see it.

"I know that road," he says.

"Tony," she mutters sadly, as if going to warn him, but the words don't come.

"What is this?" he shouts.

The video plays on. The car crashes. Barnes parks his bike behind it. He punches Howard Stark dead. He walks around to the passenger door and he reaches his hand into the car. When the horror ends, he stands in full view of the camera, and shoots it.

For a moment, the air goes quiet and still, but it is tense with anticipation, dread, and pure rage.

Stark moves to go for Barnes, but Rogers grabs a hold of him. "No, Tony," the blonde urges.

Stark turns his head to look at Steve, finding it difficult to make eye contact. "Did you know?" he whispers.

"I didn't know it was him," Rogers lies.

"Don't bullshit me, Rogers. Did you know?" Stark mutters, furious.

Rogers stares at him. "Yes."

Mikaela feels fury spark in her chest. Stark recoils away from his so-called friend, aghast. Then his helmet slides back into place and he hits Rogers, and the fight begins.

Mikaela doesn't want to watch. Stark is erratic and impulsive and relentless, entirely intent on destroying Barnes. Rogers is still trying to protect him, insisting Barnes didn't know what he was doing. Mikaela knows the truth of that, but she also knows that won't mean shit to Stark.

Barnes tries to escape up the massive rocket bay, the lid lifting into the air for him. Despite Rogers' attempts to interfere, Stark manages to blow the lid so it falls back down again, allowing him to get Barnes again.

Mikaela knows this won't end well. She is worried that someone's going to die, and completely _terrified_ that it'll be Stark.

They have fallen into a smaller area, Stark fighting Rogers, then Barnes, then both at the same time. Mikaela cannot make the quinjet go fast enough. She knows the fight won't last as long as it'll take her to get there. She needs to help in another way.

"T'Challa," she says, locating the Prince. "It's Mikaela. I'm going to lead you to the man who killed your father."

When she is satisfied that the man who caused all this mess will not escape, she returns to the fight. And just in time.

Barnes is attempting to pull out Stark's arc reactor.

"I'm gonna give you some more juice," she tells Stark, squeezing her eyes shut tight to concentrate on his power source. If Barnes gets it, Stark won't stand a chance against the two super soldiers. She _has_ to help him.

Her desperation fuels her mind, and she manages to give the arc reactor a little kick - enough for Stark to blow off Barnes' metal arm.

She slumps in her seat, suddenly exhausted. "That was a one-time trick," she warns Stark. "Fight smart and you'll make it through this."

She knows he doesn't want to just "make it through", but she doesn't want to condone his killing of Barnes. Whatever the man did, she knows it was not his fault. If Stark killed him, there would be no coming back from that. Rogers and Stark would never reconnect. There is such little chance of that as it stands anyway.

Stark analyses Rogers' fight pattern and has FRIDAY draw up counter-attacks. Rogers barely stands a chance now.

"He's my friend," Rogers pants.

"So was I," Stark retorts.

Stark hits him twice more before picking him up and throwing him at the wall. "Stay down. Final warning," he says.

But Rogers pushes himself to his feet. "I could do this all day."

When Stark lifts a palm, charging up a repulsor, Barnes grabs his leg. Distracted, the billionaire leaves himself open to an attack from Rogers. The blonde picks Stark up and lifts him over his head. Then he throws him to the ground, jumps on his chest, and starts punching his helmet.

When he leans to his left and picks up his shield, Mikaela feels panic overwhelm her.

"Tony!" she shouts.

Rogers hits his shield against Stark's helmet, once, twice, tosses the broken metal to the side, and lifts the shield above his head again.

Mikaela's heart stops. She tries to charge up Stark's arc reactor again but she doesn't have enough energy in her to transfer. Before she can think of another idea, Rogers slams the shield down, and into the arc reactor.

Mikaela's eyes sting with tears of relief, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as if to stop the sobs.

Rogers lifts himself up and goes to Barnes, helping him to his feet.

"That shield doesn't belong to you. You don't deserve it. My father made that shield!" Stark shouts.

Rogers lets the shield drop to the ground, and walks away.

Mikaela can feel Stark's arc reactor fading, ebbing out. She'll lose her connection soon.

She almost feels rude speaking out loud in such an intense moment.

"I'm coming, Tony," she says, softer than she's ever spoken before.

The arc reactor fails before he can answer, if he even would.

The wait to get to him is agonizing. But, eventually, she lands. There is no sign of Rogers or Barnes, but she's not interested in them just now. She makes her way through the destroyed building, stepping over debris and around fires, following the path they took.

Finally, she comes upon him.

He has removed most of his suit, tossing it to the ground around him in tiny pieces. His face reads fury, sorrow, and a pain that will likely never be forgotten. Mikaela's heart breaks for him as she stands there, looking at the man with a broken spirit. Although, it's more shattered and spit on than "broken".

She walks towards him and goes to her knees, struggling to encourage eye contact. She just kneels there, watching him, as he lifts a hand to fiddle at a piece of metal over his shoulder. His lips are pursed, his jaw tense, his eyes wild. He stares at one spot of the ground and nowhere else, not even her.

So, she leans forward and starts to gather the scattered pieces, piling them up in her arms. The sling makes things a little awkward, but the pain is hardly worth mentioning, so she moves her arm the way it needs to be moved to hold the pieces. They are all broken or dented or scratched, and she wonders if Stark will even want to keep them when he gets home. Hesitantly, she piles the pieces into Rogers' shield and picks it up too.

When Stark finishes picking the metal off of his body, and she finishes gathering it all into the shield, she stands and waits. After a moment, he struggles to his own feet. She decides to set the pace, slow enough that he can keep up, but not so slow that she underestimates him. He is broken inside and out - she doesn't need to offend him any more.

They steadily make their way out of the building, coming across T'Challa.

"I will take the prisoner to your people," he tries to tell Stark.

Mikaela smiles sadly at him. "Thanks. It was a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness."

He smiles back at her. "Likewise, Mikaela. Goodbye."

Mikaela leads Stark back to the quinjet, dropping the shield and his broken suit on the floor. He sits himself down far away from the cockpit, and she respects the space. As she sits in the pilot's seat, doing her best to not look round at him, she contemplates what this means for the Avengers.

Who are they now, when half of them are going to have to go into hiding? And will they ever reunite, when such a huge rift has been churned in the earth between Stark and Rogers?

Mikaela sighs quietly and leans her head back against the seat, her exhaustion coming back with a vengeance. She sets it on the auto-pilot mode and puts the Avengers compound as the destination. Then, she closes her eyes and lets sleep consume her.

Some time later, Stark's voice stirs her.

"Yes, get on a flight now for New York and I'll meet you both at the airport," he is saying, in that amused but irritated way of his. "Yeah, I promise I'll be there."

Mikaela rubs the sleep out of her eyes and checks their flight path. They still have a few hours to go.

"Happy, I'll be there, stop whining," Stark snaps.

When he sighs loudly, Mikaela turns round to see that he's hung up on the other man. "What's wrong with him?" she asks.

He rolls his eyes. "Doesn't want to spend another second alone with the spiderling."

Mikaela smirks. "Try observing him for five months, Happy."

Stark lets out a bitter chuckle, walking over to the pile of discarded metal. He nudges it with his foot. "Long day," he mutters.

Mikaela tries to read his face and body language, wondering what he wants from her. "Long day," she repeats eventually, nodding in agreement.

Stark turns away from the metal, reanimated. "You wanna come with me to meet Happy and Parker off the plane?" he asks, hiding questionably-genuine amusement.

Mikaela scoffs. "No, thank you. I've done my bit."

"Yeah. Figures," Stark replies, unsurprised.

The underlying pain and rage in his voice and face make Mikaela frown. She wants to ask him if he's okay, but of course he isn't. Besides, he's making an effort to avoid exposing his emotions and they don't exactly have a talent for speaking comfortably about how they feel.

"Where are you gonna go now?" he asks, attempting casual conversation. "You gonna check in with your nerd friends?"

"The mutants?" she clarifies, allowing an amused smile. If he wants to be casual, she'll be casual. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it."

"I'm sure they'll want to know about your progress."

Mikaela nods. "Yeah, that's true. I guess I should pop by."

"What about your, uh, mercenary buddy? You don't speak about him much."

Mikaela ignores the knowledge that this conversation is forced. "I didn't think you'd want me to," she shrugs.

He nods in understanding, looking at the wall. "Yeah, he sounds like a dick," he says, distracted.

Mikaela frowns. Not knowing how to or if she even _should_ comfort Stark is frustrating her to no end. She knows he's most likely going to sweep it all under the rug and just allow the inevitable distance to grow between him and Rogers, and she knows that this is how he's dealt with a lot of things throughout his life, but does that mean that it's how this situation should be handled? Is not talking about it the best solution? Will it help or hinder him, in the long run? The uncertainty is infuriating.

"Mikaela," Stark says gently, watching her face. "I don't want to talk about it."

She feels simultaneously relieved and more concerned. But she smiles at him anyway. "Okay."

He takes a few steps closer and leans against the wall of the jet. "I will say, though," he begins, a slight wince contorting his features. "I don't regret involving you in all this. I was," he pauses, making a vague hand gesture that seems to be interchangeable with a word he can't think of, "Earlier. It might be hard for me, but, uh, there are times when I _am_ glad that you're around."

Mikaela knows that one of those times is happening just now. An immense fondness for him washes over her, surprising her. She doesn't think she has ever felt so attached to someone before. Maybe her parents, back when she was mutation-less and wasn't learning things about them that would eventually destroy their marriage, but no one since then.

"I'm glad too," she says quietly, hearing the emotion in her voice. She has come a long way from betraying her gang for amusement, she realises. "I hope you know that you're stuck with me for good now, by the way."

"Way to kick a man when he's down," Stark says. But his eyes are shining with gratitude and his smile is genuine for the first time.


	16. Keeping Busy

**Chapter 16 - Keeping Busy**

Mikaela lounges in one of the seats on the quinjet. She stares at the wall with grey eyes, sifting through the files of the NYPD and local journalists, deciding whether she should induce another "software failure". She hasn't been monitoring Parker for days, but she feels like she _needs_ to keep up this part of the job. She has no idea if someone else would pick up the slack, and she is worried that someone else wouldn't be as thorough as she is.

It's mostly force of habit, she tells herself.

"He's here," Romanoff's voice announces.

Mikaela blinks and comes back to the jet, looking to the cockpit where the assassin stands. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, readying herself.

"I can trust you to not sabotage this jet while we're over the ocean, right?" Romanoff quips, but there seems to be a genuine hint of wariness.

Mikaela shrugs a shoulder. "I guess you'll find out."

The sound of quiet footfalls draws Mikaela's gaze to the open ramp. In the darkness, she can make out a lone figure, marching towards them. The lights from inside the quinjet slowly illuminate his face, and she feels her chest tighten.

"Natasha," he says, smiling. Then he looks to the mutant.

For some reason, Mikaela stands up.

His face reads sincere regret and gratitude. "I really appreciate this, Mikaela. I know I don't deserve it. You have every right to hate me."

Mikaela scowls at him, her fists clenching. "You might not deserve it," she agrees. "But the people trapped in that prison do." She pauses, watching him nod understandingly. "Also, I don't hate you," she admits. "I just think not telling Stark the truth about his parents was really wrong. I appreciate you wanted to protect your friend, but," she shakes her head, "Tony had a right to know."

He lowers his gaze, nodding again. "I know. I'm sorry."

"As long as you make sure he knows you're sorry."

Rogers looks at her and smiles. "There's a letter out for delivery as we speak." He pauses, eyeing her strangely. "I'm really glad Tony has you looking out for him. He needs someone who'll have his back without fail."

Mikaela looks away awkwardly and clears her throat. "Let's get on with this," she says, lifting her hand from her leg to bring the ramp up.

She sits back down and waits for Romanoff to start the jet up.

"Is that it?" the woman asks, quirking an eyebrow. "I'm a little disappointed."

"Maybe I _will_ fly us into the ocean," Mikaela muses pointedly.

Romanoff just shakes her head and moves to the pilot's seat.

Rogers sits down across from Mikaela, buckling himself in. He looks strange going on a mission without his Captain America suit. The missing shield is painfully obvious.

"It was good of T'Challa to take Barnes," Mikaela says, wanting to fill the silence.

Rogers nods with an amused smile. "Should've known you'd know about that."

Mikaela finds herself smiling back. "If anyone can help Barnes, it's definitely Wakanda. That place is insane."

"It's beautifully surreal," Rogers tells her. "It was an honour to be welcomed there."

"I bet," she nods.

"How's your arm?" he asks, gesturing to the sling. "Nat told me you hurt it saving Rhodey's life?"

Mikaela shrugs. "It's really nothing," she answers honestly. "I hardly notice it."

"An impressive feat, though," he insists. "Stark sure knows how to pick his team. That kid from Queens," he trails off, frowning as he searches his memories.

"Spider-Man," Mikaela supplies.

"Yeah, him," Rogers smiles. "He's got a lot of potential."

Mikaela shakes her head. "Spend more than ten minutes with him," she retorts. "He's infuriating."

"How so?" Rogers frowns, curious.

Romanoff appears beside them, having set the jet to auto pilot for the time being. "He's adorable."

Mikaela scowls at her. "His optimism is disgusting."

"Just 'cos _you_ never learned to see the silver linings," she smirks.

"Hey, building your personality around trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms and defense mechanisms makes for interesting people. His _one_ character trait is happy. That's it. There's nothing else," Mikaela counters. She sighs wistfully. "He could have been so much more."

Rogers shakes his head with an amused smile. "He seemed like a good kid."

"Yeah, he is," she says reluctantly, disappointed. "You're lucky he was strong enough to get out from under that crate thing, by the way."

Rogers shrugs a shoulder. "I knew he could handle it."

It's quiet for a moment. Then Romanoff sits down next to Mikaela.

"How's Tony?" she asks gently.

Mikaela sighs. "I haven't seen him in a couple days. He didn't want to talk about any of it so I figured I'd give him some space."

"You've been keeping tabs on him though?" Romanoff asks knowingly.

"Yeah. He's keeping himself busy. I think he's actually going to reach out to Pepper soon."

"That'd be good for him," Rogers says. "They're a good couple."

"I've never actually met Pepper," Mikaela muses, frowning.

"I think Tony was scared if the three of you were to hang out it'd feel too much like a family," Romanoff smirks.

Mikaela rolls her eyes at her. "It would not."

They chat for another while, getting along well enough. Mikaela knows they'll need to go into hiding after this. She has no idea when she'll next see them, and she realises she feels a little sad about it.

Eventually, they start approaching the Raft. Romanoff gets up and heads back to the cockpit while Rogers stands and takes a hold of a railing on the ceiling.

"You ready?" the American hero asks.

Mikaela nods and stands up too, pressing a hand against the wall of the jet.

"Alright, we're cloaked physically," Romanoff calls. "You're up, Mikaela."

"Yeah, for the rest of the entire mission," she mutters.

Rogers sends her an amused grin. "You wanna come beat up some soldiers with me?"

"Nah I'll stay here and let the doors slice them in half," she replies. When he opens his mouth to protest, she rolls her eyes. "Yes, I know, I'm not actually going to kill anyone."

She blinks and digs into her mutation, letting it consume her. She links in to the operating systems of the Raft and hides the quinjet from their sensors. When she starts to make it rise out of the water, she turns her head towards the cockpit.

"Alright, take us over the top," she instructs.

The Raft breaks the surface. She silences any alarms that threaten to blare with her intrusion. She lowers the ramp of the quinjet and plants her feet firmly on the floor. A strong blast of wind rushes into the confined space, making her wobble a little. It brings a torrent of rain in with it, soaking them both as Rogers moves closer to the ramp.

"Ready?" she shouts over the noise.

"Ready!" Rogers confirms, edging even closer to the open air.

Mikaela double checks they're in a good position and opens the massive doors on the roof of the Raft.

"Go!" she yells.

Rogers drops from the jet into the dark air and disappears.

Mikaela lifts the ramp again to cut off the distracting wind and rain. When he lands in the Raft successfully, she focuses her attention on blocking off any passages that he doesn't need to go down.

"Go straight," she says into his earpiece.

She opens the door so he knows which one to go through.

Around the Raft, the men and women are starting to realise that something's wrong. Mikaela shuts off countless attempts to sound the alarms, trying to avoid as much chaos as possible. She locks the doors around the soldiers so they can't get out and find Rogers.

"Take the next right," she instructs. "There's a few soldiers in the hallway coming towards you."

Rogers makes quick work of them.

"Take the third left and go down the stairs, four floors."

She almost misses another attempt at sounding an alarm, but catches it just in time.

"There are five soldiers coming up towards you."

She locks the doors on this new floor, checking Rogers' path so far so that no one is coming in behind him to block the escape.

"Alright, third left. That's the control room. There are more soldiers in there."

Mikaela feels the pain in her head throb, and she winces.

"You doing alright?" Romanoff asks.

Mikaela nods tensely.

She watches Rogers battle with the soldiers, feeling the toll of locking down such an immense structure. When he's done, she opens the door into the room where his friends are being kept.

Letting him have his dramatic moment, she refrains from opening the cells immediately.

But then she feels resistance at the doors of the Raft. Someone's trying to close the massive things to prevent an escape.

"Shit," she hisses, throwing more force at it. "Time to go, Rogers."

She unlocks the cells and he quickly gathers the prisoners, leading them out the room in a solid jog.

Mikaela keeps him updated on any resistance as she struggles against the countless alarms and systems pushing against her. The soldiers are just bypassing the doors they're trapped behind by _blowing them up_. There's not much she can do about that.

After an eternity, the escaping group near the landing pad. Mikaela makes sure it's clear and then turns to Romanoff again.

"Take us in!" she calls.

As the jet lowers, Mikaela opens the ramp again, enduring the battering from the wind and rain. She feels the jet touchdown just as Rogers and his prisoners jog through the doorway.

He steps to the side and encourages the rest up the ramp, keeping an eye out for trouble. Mikaela has been able to let go of the doorways along Rogers' path and so she can dedicate all of her attention to the main doors and the ones around this room now.

When Rogers jogs up behind the rest, she closes the ramp and Romanoff lifts the jet into the air, kicking the thrusters on full. Mikaela closes the massive doors behind them and lowers the Raft under the water again, remaining in that position until she is confident that they're far enough away to not be caught up with.

She blinks the grey in her eyes away and disconnects from the technology around her. Sitting herself back on her seat with a tired sigh, she smiles at the cramped space.

"Hey, kid," Wilson smiles as he comes up to her. "We owe you big time."

Mikaela waves a hand dismissively. "Nah, it was the right thing to do."

He sits himself next to her and pulls at his prison outfit. "I can't wait to get out of this thing."

"How do you think I feel?" a voice retorts dryly. Mikaela looks across from her to see Wanda sat down, her arms crossed over her in a fucking straight jacket.

"Jesus," Mikaela frowns. "That's a bit much, is it not?"

Wanda smiles bitterly. "My thoughts exactly."

Rogers bends down to her and disconnects the straps, allowing her movement in her arms again. She sighs in relief and says a quiet "thank you" to him.

"Hey, so, uh, what's your _thing_?" an unfamiliar man asks.

Mikaela leans her head back on the seat behind her, trying to get comfortable. "Well, first of all, I'm Mikaela, nice to meet you."

He smiles apologetically. "Scott Lang."

"I'm a mutant," she says.

The only reaction Lang gives is a "fair enough" expression.

"What is your power?" Wanda asks curiously.

"I'm technopathic, so I can manipulate technological things and get into the internet and stuff," Mikaela answers. She looks at the girl for a moment, wondering. "Are you a mutant?"

Wanda shakes her head. "I was given my powers by Loki's sceptre."

Mikaela nods understandingly. Shifting her gaze to Rogers, she says, "What's the plan?"

"I wanna go home, see my family," Barton speaks up from the cockpit where he stands by Romanoff. His face shows that he is decided, nothing will sway him.

"Yeah, me too," Lang agrees. "Visit my little girl."

Rogers looks at Wilson, who shrugs. "We're fugitives. I go where you go," Wilson answers the silent question.

"I second that," Romanoff calls back to them.

When they look at Wanda, she smiles sadly. "I suppose I must also go into hiding."

Mikaela glances round at them all. "Well, I'll just have to wish you good luck. Drop me off anywhere, I'll make my own way back."

Lang frowns at her. "Won't they be looking for you now?"

"They don't know about me," Mikaela replies. "Well, they know there is _someone_. But they don't know who or what."

"What about Tony?" Rogers asks, frowning gently. "He might not take this lightly."

Mikaela rubs her forehead. "You guys didn't deserve to be in there. He knows that. He'll be glad you're not locked up, especially Wanda in that ridiculous thing."

They nod around her, but Lang and Wilson clearly have reservations about Stark still.

For the rest of the journey, Mikaela leans back and lets the conversations around her wash over her. She tunes in and out every so often, answering whenever she's spoken to, but she feels like she needs a good meal and a long sleep. Eventually, after many thanks, they drop her off in a small town and leave her to make her own way.

But she isn't sure which way she wants to go.

She sits herself at a bus stop and pulls out the phone Stark gave her when she was finding Parker. The screen lights up when she blinks at it and displays the feeds of the cameras in Avengers Tower. She finds Stark in his lab, working on the plans of yet another new suit for Parker. He has cheerful enough music on in the background and is bantering away with FRIDAY, so she smiles and pulls out of the building.

The screen morphs and shows her search of the day's Spider-Man footage, watching him swing about in his upgraded suit, drinking in the compliments from the civilians around him. She tracks his comings and goings until she watches him walk into his building, Alt-J blaring in his earphones. She does a quick check of NYPD and local news channels' files and, satisfied, pulls away from him too.

Sighing, she puts her phone away and closes her eyes, almost leaning against the wall of the bus stop before thinking better of it when she realises how dirty it must be. She stretches the muscles of her mind, reaching out, and grasps a far away mobile phone.

"I'm tired. Can I get a lift?" she texts it, adding her location underneath.

She sits quietly in the darkening evening, listening to the sounds of life in the town slowly recede. The cars become less frequent, the dog-walkers even rarer. The lights in the houses around her start to flick off and the birds stop tweeting. A few cats scitter across the road, or stand staring at her challengingly, but apart from that she is alone. She has nothing but her thoughts.

They stray from Stark, to Parker, to the mutants, to Deadpool, to Rogers and his team, to Scotland, and back again. Usually Mikaela isn't one for deep, philosophical thinking, but she finds herself wondering at her place in the world. She has no goals, no ambitions, no place she wants to be. She just _does_ things, going along for the ride, bouncing between different factions and people. She isn't quite sure what she brings to any of them.

Since leaving Diez's gang, Mikaela knows she has changed a little. She no longer does things purely for herself. She does things for other people now. But it doesn't feel like it comes out of the goodness of her heart. It feels more like a selfish twist on a selfless act. What does that make her? Good? Bad? Or just _her_? She told Stark she was in a grey area. She has insulted and humiliated countless people, and she has admitted to caring for people. She has purposefully sabotaged and destroyed a criminal family, but a family nonetheless, and she has rescued mutant children from a life of experimentation. She has killed someone, and she has saved someone's life.

She doesn't necessarily feel any inclination towards being _better_ , towards actively working to make the world a better place. She still feels like she doesn't owe it shit. But she doesn't feel any inclination towards being _worse_ either, save for the odd petty and bitter moments where her temper gets the best of her. She isn't exactly _unhappy_ in the position she's in, she just isn't sure of where it will take her. Considering the situation Rogers and his companions are in, being the best good guy there is doesn't even guarantee a predictable path of eternal admiration.

Not that she would want that, anyway. She's not in it for recognition and fame. She isn't even in an "it". She just… _is_.

She feels the jet approaching from ages away, but the speed of the thing has it hovering above her in seconds. She stands from the bus stop, stretching her cramped back, and walks towards the ramp as the jet lowers to the ground.

Logan stands at the top of it, a lit cigar in his mouth and a leather jacket on his back. "Hey, kid," he growls.

Mikaela smiles, realising she's missed him. "Hey, granddad."

She saunters up the ramp towards him, failing to dodge the hand he swats at her head. As she walks further into the jet, rubbing the attacked area, she spots Storm in the pilot's seat.

"It's good to see you, Mikaela," the woman smiles kindly. "You look healthy."

Mikaela sits heavily on one of the seats near Storm. Logan hits a button to lift the ramp and comes to join them. Storm turns her attention to the controls as she lifts the jet into the air again and heads towards the school.

"Last time we saw you, you could barely walk longer than five minutes," Logan grunts, smoke puffing out his mouth as it forms the words.

"Would you put that out?" Storm frowns, but her face reads fond amusement alongside aggravation. Logan lifts an irritated eyebrow but does as she says.

"I had another breakthrough," Mikaela tells them, elation filling her as it always does when she remembers what happened.

"Tell us!" Storm says eagerly.

"Stark's friend, the one with the other suit, had been hit in the power source and was falling uncontrollably," Mikaela explains. She holds back a smile at the concerned frown on Storm's face. "So I, uh, jumped out a plane onto him."

"What?" Storm exclaims, totally aghast.

Logan lets out a short chuckle.

"I _restarted_ his power source," Mikaela says, hoping it'll chill Storm out.

Her eyebrows shoot upwards. "Wow, really?"

"That's actually impressive, kid," Logan admits.

Mikaela smiles triumphantly. "I know, right? It seemed to, like, reconnect the parts of my mind Ultron tore up. It still doesn't feel fully fixed - still hurts when I use my mutation extensively - but it's _so_ much better."

"And the arm?" Storm asks.

Mikaela looks down at the sling. She keeps forgetting about it. "I almost fell after I restarted the source, but Rhodes caught me. Cost me a broken arm though."

"Does it hurt?"

Mikaela shrugs. "Not really. I've had worse."

Her audience ponders the information.

"What's been going on while I've been away? Stark kept me busy for the best part of five months and I wasn't strong enough to check in for that time. I only got my strength back a few days ago," Mikaela says.

Storm shares an uneasy glance with Logan, who looks to Mikaela with a grim expression. "Magneto's been recruiting again," he says.

"Isn't he always?" Mikaela retorts.

"Yeah, but this time he's done it right under our noses," Storm says. "He took two kids out of the school."

Mikaela frowns. "How the hell did he manage that without Xavier noticing?"

Logan grimaces. "We all had an idea that something was going on. The Professor wanted to step back, let the kids make their own decisions. He had faith in them."

"That's shit," Mikaela replies, genuinely empathetic. She might be in a grey area, but Magneto was a step too far. He knows exactly how to manipulate people.

"It gets worse."

"The kids were around your age, old enough to know the goings-on of the school," Storm elaborates. "They'll have known about you, Mikaela. Magneto will have heard of you by now, and he'll know you bounce around rather than pledge yourself as one of us. He might think he has a chance of recruiting you."

Mikaela feels a little thrown. She has always known that her mutation was only safe in her own hands - hands that wouldn't be manipulated by humans in powerful positions. But she never thought to be wary of the intentions of mutants. She supposes that makes her naive.

"He won't find me," she assures them. "And it's not like he'd attack the school for me or anything."

"Maybe not," Storm agrees. "But just be aware of him, and be careful."

Mikaela nods quietly, then says, "Thanks for the warning. And the lift as well, actually."

"Yeah, you know we're not your chauffeurs right?" Logan asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Mikaela gasps dramatically. "You are kidding me on," she accuses sarcastically.

They lapse into good-natured conversation again, discussing what Mikaela's been up to since they last saw her, how everyone at the school is doing, and what new mutations they've discovered. It's not as if any of Mikaela's non-mutant friends make her feel out of place for being a mutant or anything, but it is _nice_ to be with other mutants again, and talk to them about being mutants. It makes her feel like she might be close to finding a place where she truly belongs - finding a _home_.


	17. Catching Up

**Chapter Seventeen - Catching Up**

Mikaela sits on her bed a few days later, looking out the window at Xavier's estate, littered with happy children running around. She's used up the small amount of clothes she always leaves in her room at the school for times like these, and that tells her it's time to go somewhere else now. Well, that and the fact that she can't stand being around such goody-goodies for any longer. Everyone here is so morally _sound_ and it's completely exhausting.

She needs a bit of moral ambiguity in her life again. Her phone buzzes in her hand and she looks down at it, smiling.

"Cupcake! Yes, let's get shit-faced!" the text reads.

Mikaela tucks the phone into her pocket, minding the earphone wire sticking out the bottom of the phone, and plugs her earphones in. She leaves the school, having already said her goodbyes, and heads out, Alt-J playing in her ears. This band is the one good thing that has come out of her time observing Parker.

It takes her a few hours to get where she needs to go, but eventually she steps off a bus and finds Wade, in casual clothes, and Vanessa waiting for her. Wade is holding a balloon that says "It's a girl!" and Vanessa is tucked into his side, laughing. Mikaela grins at them happily.

"Oh, my little baby!" Wade cooes, stepping forward to pinch her cheeks. Then he wraps his arms around her, pinning her own arms to her side uncomfortably, and squeezes hard, lifting her into the air.

"Aw, hasn't she _grown_?" Vanessa joins in, ruffling Mikaela's hair.

"Into a beautiful young thang," Wade agrees, setting her down. When he does, he notices the sling. "Uh, cupcake, do you have a broken arm?"

Mikaela adjusts it, feeling a small twinge of pain. "I do _now_ ," she retorts pointedly, smiling.

"Nice one, Wade," Vanessa chastises, slapping his shoulder. "You broke our baby."

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "I actually got this when I," she pauses to fix an invisible collar, " _Saved_ a man's life."

Wade's eyebrows lift and he throws an arm around her shoulders, leading her down the street. " _Wow_ , look at you, moving up the good-person scale!"

"What happened?" Vanessa asks curiously.

"To answer your question, I must go back to the very beginning," Mikaela says, putting on the voice of an old wise man.

And go back, she does. She hasn't seen Wade since before Ultron's attack, so she has to tell him all about that, her struggle, her recovery, her time watching Parker, and finally her saving Rhodes' life. It takes her so long - mostly due to Wade's interruptions - that she finally finishes as Wade sets down a bottle of beer in front of her.

"Wow, what a ride. I'm glad that was condensed into a paragraph," he says, taking a swig from his own beer.

Vanessa smiles amusedly at him, then looks back to Mikaela. "So, you've been very busy. Doing a lot of _good_ things," she comments, almost questioningly.

"Yeah, what's the deal?" Wade agrees. "I thought you were cool, like me."

Mikaela quirks an eyebrow. "I'm still _cool_ , thank you very much. I just…" she trails off, unsure how to articulate it.

"You actually care about people now," Vanessa supplies, smirking.

"Ew," Wade frowns.

Mikaela winces. "Yeah, ew. But I don't know what _you're_ talking about, DP, you're very open about how much you care about Vanessa."

He looks aghast. Gesturing at Vanessa incredulously, he exclaims, "Have you _seen_ her, Cupcake? She is _the_ most perfect thing in the world, I'd be a moron to not fall in love with her. Everyone does. Frankly, I'd be offended if they didn't." Vanessa smiles at him and leans forward to kiss his cheek.

Mikaela chuckles, conceding. "Okay, yeah, that's fair. You _are_ the most beautiful thing to walk God's green Earth," she tells Vanessa.

"And you're a close second," Vanessa winks. "But, seriously, I'm glad you've found someone you care about."

"Even if it stemmed from daddy issues?" Wade retorts.

Mikaela scowls and slaps his shoulder. "I don't have daddy issues. And I care about Stark because he's my friend. Like you are, and like the mutants are, and the Avengers."

Wade laughs. "Uh, no, cupcake. He means more to you than all of them combined. I've read it in this fanfiction."

Mikaela's face contorts in confusion, but she shakes it off. "Everyone means something different to me."

"Yeah, and he's the closest thing to a dad that you have," Vanessa says.

Mikaela slumps in her seat and grabs the beer in front of her. "Can we talk about something else?" she complains, uncomfortable.

"Running from your feelings, much," Wade mutters.

Mikaela swigs her drink and takes out her phone, ignoring them for a minute. Instinctively, she goes to the files different factions have on Spider-Man.

"Don't be moody, cupcake," Wade chides. "What're you doing?"

"Just checking up on something," she replies, distracted.

Wade manages to sneak a glimpse before she can pull the phone away. "Spider-Man, huh? Your latest care-victim?"

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "No," she denies, defiant. "I don't like him. It was just my job for so long. Plus Stark seems invested in one way or another so I want to keep an eye on the kid for his sake."

" _Kid_?" Vanessa repeats, grinning. "He seems the same age as you."

"And yet I'm sitting having a beer with adults and he's playing with Star Wars lego," Mikaela retorts. "I'm wise beyond my years."

Wade snorts. "Wise."

Mikaela glares at him and puts the phone away. "You guys used to be fun," she moans. "But now you just keep harassing me."

"Ugh," Wade groans in reply. "Call me when your adolescence is over, this is exhausting."

Vanessa sends him an amused but disapproving look. "We just want what's best for you, Mikaela."

Mikaela frowns, realising something. "When did I tell you my name? It's something I should have done ages ago, but-"

"The first time we got you drunk," Wade tells her, waving a dismissive hand. "It was an emotional moment."

Mikaela smirks. "I'm sure." She looks back at Vanessa, who is smiling kindly. "How is harassing me like this supposed to be what's best for me?"

Wade makes an impatient gesture, which Vanessa ignores. "Allowing yourself to feel what you feel will make you much happier and will improve your relationships."

Wade turns to look at his fiance lovingly. "That was disgustingly beautiful."

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "My relationships with people are fine."

"Whatever, be stubborn, it doesn't bother me," Vanessa shrugs, taking a drink.

"Thank you, I will," Mikaela replies.

"So, Spider-Man, who is he? Tom Holland?" Wade asks.

"Tom who?" Mikaela frowns, laughing at the randomness. "I can't tell you."

"Can't, or won't?" Vanessa asks, her eyes narrowing playfully.

"Both," Mikaela shrugs. "Besides, you wouldn't know him."

Wade groans, annoyed. "Fine. I'll just read more chapters and find out for myself."

They talk well into the night, drinking and laughing and moving from one topic to another at a speed that gives Mikaela whiplash. Trying to have a normal conversation with Wade is almost impossible. Vanessa is a helpful addition, but the longer she stays with Wade, the more similar she becomes to him. Mikaela's pretty sure they'll soon meld into one person.

She loves spending time with the two of them, though. She has so much fun with them, talking shit and getting drunk. They offer her an experience no one else will. But they still feel the need to nag her about her feelings, for some stupid reason. So, eventually, Mikaela asks if they can go back to their place and if she can crash on their couch, hoping it'll bring the conversation to a close.

It doesn't, of course, but it brings her closer to sleeping the conversation away and forgetting about it all.

xxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela is getting ready to leave the next day when Wade approaches her. "I'm proud of you, cupcake. You've come a long way from the revenge-bent girl I met. You might resent your feelings and connections with people, but they've helped you grow."

Mikaela sighs, rubbing her forehead. "When did you develop an emotional intelligence? It's very unlike you."

"You're right, but it's where the writer's going with it anyway, so," he shrugs. "I know it all stemmed from you not wanting to let yourself get close to anyone, or some bullshit like that, because of past trauma, but you have to remember that you're dealing with actually _good_ people now, not just criminals and gang members."

Mikaela's face contorts, reflecting her unease. "I don't like this side of you. It doesn't suit you."

"Don't be an asshole," he replies, flicking her nose. "And stop being so difficult."

Fed up of it all, Mikaela bids them farewell and heads out into the city, wandering aimlessly. She thinks she's doing not bad with her relationships at the moment. She doesn't think she needs to improve them any more than they already have been. Her and Stark are in a good place, and she doesn't feel like she's being difficult with anyone else.

Reluctantly, she admits she can be hard on Parker - both behind his back and to his face - but she isn't really interested in being his friend, so why should she be less difficult with him? He is a big ball of happiness and sunshine and it rubs her the wrong way, most of the time. She couldn't stand being around him for long. Watching him from a distance is fine, but having that attitude be directed at _you_? No thanks.

Surely it's acceptable in life to not feel obligated to make a meaningful connection with someone you're not interested in being friends with? Wade doesn't know what he's talking about. If he met Parker, he would run as far as he could.

Mikaela smirks to herself and shakes her head. Who is she kidding? Wade would _adore_ Parker.

She stops walking when she realises it's starting to get late, and that she's somehow wound up in Queens.

Then she rubs her forehead and scowls. This whole time she's directed Wade's words to Parker, even though Wade didn't specify anyone in particular. And now she's subconsciously taken herself to Parker's playground. She has to admit to herself that her interpretation of her feelings doesn't seem to match up with her actions.

"Mikaela?" an upbeat voice questions.

She hears his soft footfalls as he lands from his swing and approaches her.

Mikaela turns to look at him, observing the new suit in all its glory. Stark really did a good job with it. The way the white eyes move in accordance to his emotions is cool, if she's honest. Parker looks miles better in this suit than he did in his homemade costume.

"Hey," he says, waving a hand.

Mikaela sighs to herself, listening to his voice. There is still a twinge of annoyance that sparks in her when he speaks in that cheerful tone of his, but because of Wade she now wonders what the annoyance stems from. Maybe she's jealous that he found a way to be happy after his trauma while she just shut herself off from anyone she came across.

"It's me," Parker says quietly, glancing around them before leaning in closer to whisper, "Peter Parker."

Mikaela closes her eyes against her annoyance. "I know who you are, dumbass," she mutters.

"Oh," he says, lifting a hand to touch the back of his head. Mikaela internally winces at the embarrassment in his voice. "It's just because you weren't sayi- You know what, it doesn't matter."

They stand awkwardly for a moment. People on the street stare and take pictures of him.

"Uh, well-" he starts to say, sounding as if he's going to leave.

"The new suit looks good. How's it going?" Mikaela interrupts.

Parker shifts on his feet and looks down at himself. "Amazing, yeah," he replies, all traces of embarrassment gone. "Mr Stark really shouldn't have gone to so much trouble."

Mikaela finds herself smiling at his humble nature. "He wasn't going to let you take on Captain America in a onesie," she retorts.

Parker's head dips. "I told him it wasn't a onesie," he mutters quietly.

Mikaela glances at the cameras around them and lowers her cap slightly. She could erase herself from their pictures but they would instantly notice and cause a hassle. She just has to put up with it.

"Do you, uh, wanna go somewhere quieter?" Parker asks, noticing her caution.

"Hey, Spider-Man, who's the girl?" someone shouts.

Parker recoils. "Uh, I didn't mean it like- I just meant we could go somewhere else," he stumbles hurriedly. "Just to get away from them. Obviously we don't have to go anywhere together, I just- it was just because-"

Mikaela holds up a hand to stop his rambling. "Pick a rooftop and I'll follow," she says, surprising herself a little. She could have just told him she'd see him another time, or never.

Parker nods and starts to walk away, drawing the attention of the crowd. Mikaela takes the opportunity and slips into the alley next to her, jogging away from the prying cameras.

Ten minutes later, she opens the door to a rooftop and walks out onto it, admiring the setting sun. It reminds her of the time she was sitting in that awful apartment, watching Parker as he sat on a similar rooftop, admiring a similar view.

"Hey," he calls, waving her over at the edge of the roof.

She walks over and sits herself next to him, letting her legs dangle into the open air. "You've been getting more attention since the upgrade," she observes.

"Yeah," he replies. "I think people are taking me more seriously. I mean, I'm doing the same thing I always did, but-"

"But you don't look like an idiot anymore," she smirks.

Parker lets out a laugh. "Yeah," he admits. "Listen, I was wondering, were you watching me from that first time we met, all the way to when Mr Stark came to me?"

Mikaela knows how creepy it seems. "Yeah," she says. "Five months, apparently."

"Huh," Parker mutters, looking out over the city. "It's a little weird."

Mikaela allows a smile. "I know," she tells him. "There were times when I felt weird about it too. But I was just making sure you weren't going to get caught or wind up in more trouble than you could handle."

"I guess I should thank you," he says, uncertain. "I mean, you said you would check what the NYPD and journalists had on me, didn't you?"

Mikaela doesn't want to tell him that she still does. "Yeah."

"I never even thought to do that," he admits. "You probably saved me from having my identity uncovered."

Mikaela shrugs. "Someone had to do it."

Parker looks at her sharply. "Oh my god, who's doing it now?" he asks, unnerved. "I didn't think to take it up after you-"

"It's taken care of," Mikaela assures him.

He pauses briefly. "It is?"

She glances at his white eyes and away again. "Obviously."

He is quiet for a moment, watching the side of her head. "Thanks," he says, finally turning his gaze back to the city.

Mikaela feels slightly embarrassed that he knows she's still keeping tabs on him. "I'm sure Stark would have done it," she says, trying to minimize it. "It's just that he's been distracted."

"What happened in the end?" Parker asks.

Mikaela rubs her forehead. "He found out that Rogers had been hiding something very important from him. It really hurt him."

"Oh," Parker says, empathetic. "Dick move."

"Very much so," Mikaela agrees.

"How is he now?"

Mikaela lifts her cap briefly to scratch her scalp. "I haven't spoken to him for a while," she admits. "Figured I'd give him some space. He said he didn't want to talk about it when we were coming back, so I left him to process it."

"Why do you two have such a weird relationship? Who are you to each other?" Parker asks, curious and confused.

Mikaela shrugs. "We're friends, I guess."

"How long have you known each other?"

"On and off for about four or five years, I'm not sure. I don't really keep track of time."

"What's it like?" he asks, a little hesitant. "Being his friend," he elaborates.

Mikaela stifles her amusement. "Annoying," she answers honestly. "You get roped into stalking costumed kids to find out who they really are."

Parker reaches up to pull his mask off and scratches his forehead. His hair is impressively bouncy and thick, sitting at weird angles after being contained for so long in the mask.

"How did you get your powers?" Mikaela asks.

Parker leaves his mask in his lap and makes eye contact with her. "Uh, I got bit by a spider," he says, wincing slightly at how ridiculous it sounds.

Mikaela grins in amusement. "That's hilarious. I wondered what the whole spider connection was."

He nods, looking away with a small smile. "Yeah, it's probably one of the weirdest origin stories ever."

Mikaela thinks of Logan and Wade. "It's not the weirdest I've ever heard."

He looks comforted by that. "So, what are you doing in Queens?"

Mikaela doesn't want to tell him about her thought process and subsequent subconscious journey. "Figured you deserved that chat about my job," she says instead, remembering he'd wanted one when they were in Berlin.

"Oh, well, thanks," he replies. "Hey, what's your origin story?"

Mikaela looks at him for a moment, at the bright curiosity and friendliness in his eyes. "Private," she says.

She sees a flash of something on his face, disappointment or hurt or something, before his phone goes off and he looks down.

"It's my aunt," he explains. "I should go."

Mikaela nods. She feels slightly guilty about their interaction ending on a bad note, but she isn't sure about him still. "See you around," she says.

He looks like he wants to say something, but he just nods his head and slips his mask back on. Then he jumps off the edge of the roof and swings away. Mikaela watches him go, wondering why she can't make her mind up about him.

xxxxxxxx

"Hey, kid," Stark greets her pleasantly as she emerges from the elevator. "This is a nice surprise."

Mikaela smiles at him. "Really?" she asks, forcing a doubtful tone to hide her hopeful one. Wade would disapprove, but she's tired and still a little hungover from their drinking last night.

He walks towards her and ruffles her hair. "Nah," he jokes. "What are you doing here?"

Mikaela shrugs, unsure if she should be blunt about her checking up on him. "Haven't seen you in a while," she decides to answer.

"What's it been, a week?" he retorts, smirking. He leads her back to his lab, where she finds a new work-in-progress.

" _Another_ one?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow. "You literally _just_ gave him a new one."

The suit Stark's working on currently is awesome, she has to admit, but _seriously_?

"Don't be jealous," Stark tells her. "This is for when he's ready to take the next step and join the big boys."

"You're way ahead of yourself then," she replies, sitting herself on an empty desk. "You've got him on a 'training wheels' programme, clearly he won't be ready for a while."

Stark shrugs. "Better to be prepared. This has lots of upgrades, you never know when he'll need them."

Mikaela smiles. "How are you liking your new son?" she quips.

He scowls at her. "Shut up. There is no way I'm going through a pretend-father thing again." He turns his back on her to go back to working, but reconsiders. "How did you know about the Training Wheels programme?" he asks suspiciously.

Mikaela feels almost embarrassed. "I saw him today."

Stark's eyebrows shoot up. "You saw Parker on your own? _Willingly_?"

Mikaela grimaces. "I mean, he kind of snuck up on me. I didn't _expect_ to see him."

"Where were you?"

"Queens," she admits.

He gives her a look. "Queens. And you didn't expect to bump into him."

She bristles defensively. "It's true!" she insists, crossing her arms. "I just went for a walk and ended up there and then he appeared!"

Stark smirks at her. "I think you don't hate him as much as you say you do."

It's Mikaela's turn to give _him_ a look. "My feelings towards Parker, whether like or dislike, are yet to be decided."

"Alright, kid," Stark relents, smiling.

When he starts fiddling with his work again, Mikaela looks round at his lab. It's messier than it's ever been, but he's clearly done some great things with this new suit for Parker.

"How long have you been working on this?" she asks.

Stark shrugs, his back to her. "Since we got back."

"Have you taken any breaks for sleeping or eating?"

He glances at her over his shoulder. "For your information, I _have_."

"Have you taken a _normal_ amount of breaks? Or just a couple since we got back?" she asks, knowing fine well he's using her wording against her.

"I'm a mad scientist, I don't take normal breaks."

"You're also a human being," she says pointedly. "Who's probably still processing recent events."

His back tenses and his head drops.

Mikaela grimaces, annoyed at herself for taking the chance. "Tony, I'm sorry-"

"You're right," he cuts in, turning to look at her with a sad smile. "I don't want to stop working, because when I do, I think. And I don't want to _think_ right now."

Mikaela nods understandingly. "I get it," she says. "Keep your brain busy so it doesn't linger on the painful stuff." She watches his body untense, his eyes dropping to an unseen point. "If you want to distract it in a less tiring way," she begins, shrugging, "We could watch a movie or something."

"I think it'd be a good idea, boss," FRIDAY's voice announces. "You need some relaxation time."

"Ugh, fine," he groans dramatically.

He shuts off the lights in the lab and leads Mikaela to the smaller recreational room downstairs. He makes up some popcorn and Mikaela finds a blanket to throw over them.

"What do you want to watch, Ghostie?" he calls from the microwave.

Mikaela is crouched by a cabinet of DVDs. "Something old-school."

"Old-school for _you_ or old-school for _me_?" he questions, smirking with an eyebrow quirked.

" _Indiana Jones_!" she announces happily, sliding the DVD out of the collection. "I haven't watched this in forever."

"Old-school for _you_ , then," Stark mutters.

Mikaela puts the DVD in and slumps on the couch, pulling the blanket over her legs. Stark sits next to her and hands her the bowl of popcorn as he kicks off his shoes, throws his feet up onto the coffee table in front of them, and sorts the other half of the blanket over himself. Mikaela takes a handful of popcorn before she passes the bowl back to him.

"Thanks, Stark," she says, popping a couple of pieces into her mouth.

As he starts the film, he sniffs tensely. Mikaela watches him in her peripherals but doesn't comment, unsettled by the sudden change. His jaw works for a moment, his eyes dropping to stare at his feet. Then he throws a piece of popcorn into his mouth and speaks while he chews.

"You know what's funny? I'll tell you," he says, quick and sharp. Mikaela feels like she's about to get told off. "When you call me Tony, I know that you're at your most genuine and sincere." Mikaela pauses her chewing, pinning her gaze to the TV screen uncomfortably. "And, while it's appreciated in the moment, it makes me wonder what way you're being the rest of the time. Are you being false? Are you being detached? You get what I mean?" He turns to pin his burning eyes on her now, his head tilted in question. "What's the deal with that?"

Mikaela is frozen to the spot. "Em, I guess I call you Tony in moments where calling you Stark would seem inappropriate or something," she stammers, glancing at him and away again.

His face contorts. "That doesn't feel good enough to me," he says. "Listen, I know what we have here is a little confusing and undefined, but I thought we at least agreed that we care about each other."

Mikaela frowns, facing him. "We did," she confirms.

"So why do you call me Stark?" he challenges.

Mikaela feels at a loss for words momentarily. "When we met I didn't think we were on a first name basis."

"We met years ago," he retorts. "Has that not _changed_ since then?"

"Other people call you Stark," she argues. "Avengers call you Stark."

"You're not 'other people', though, are you?" he snaps. "So what's the deal?"

Mikaela stares at him. She sees raw vulnerability written all over his face. She sees how hurt he still is, and how this is making him feel worse. She has no other option than to search her heart and give him the truth if she wants to maintain their friendship.

"I never transitioned from calling you Stark to calling you Tony all the time because that would signify us getting closer," she explains, quiet and ashamed. "I admitted I care about you and I've done several things which prove that, but continuing to call you Stark was my last subconscious line of defense against getting hurt." He frowns at her, and she feels painfully exposed, like she's showing him her very soul, and she's terrified of being shunned. "It doesn't make any sense," she admits. "I didn't really realise I was doing it. I just have always needed to protect myself."

He watches her for a moment, the hurt in his eyes subsiding slowly. "Why did you think you needed to protect yourself from me?" he asks gently.

Mikaela blinks and looks away, a bitter taste in her mouth. "When I discovered my mutation, my parents were devastated," she says, working through the repressed pain threatening to hurtle itself at her mind. "I couldn't control it at first. TV screens would just suddenly light up with random information about random people. I didn't know how to reign my mind in." She rubs her forehead, frowning at her lap. "Eventually, I covered the data online about my mum. She'd been having an affair, and I broadcasted it on every screen in our house and the six houses nearby. She resented me for it. My dad resented both of us and blamed us for ruining their marriage. She kicked us out, he almost abandoned me, but when I showed signs of controlling my mutation, he figured he could make some money out of it."

Mikaela takes a deep breath, ignoring the way her eyes sting, and looks up at him. "I had to learn to protect my heart from my own parents," she says. "The people I met after that and interacted with for the next few years were equally treacherous. Protecting myself is instinctual. It's the main thing I've learned from my childhood. If I had to protect myself from my parents, then I had to protect myself from everyone else too."

He is quiet for some time, digesting the information. Then, finally, "I get that, kid, I do," he says, sympathetic. "But don't you know by now that I'd never want to hurt you?"

Mikaela blinks as her heart pulses strongly in her chest in response to his words. She is surprised when a tear slips down her cheek. "If I believe that then it leaves me open to an even greater pain," she says quietly.

His warm hand reaches down to grip hers firmly, his fingers encapsulating her own so that she can't see them anymore. "That's the risk we take when we care about people," he replies. "I had a hard time doing it too, trust me. I still do. I hide behind humour and sarcasm so that people can't see my real feelings. You know how hard it was for me to come to terms with how much I care about you. But, here I am, bearing my heart and soul to you, kid. Are you gonna make me look like an idiot, or are you gonna take the same risk I did?"

Mikaela feels another tear slip. She stares at his hand, the way it completely shelters her own from view, and her heart pulses again, forcing words out her throat. "You're the closest thing to a family I have," she admits aloud for the first time. It feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders and she sags in relief. "My family is the thing that hurt me the most. It caused me to be like this." She turns her face to look up at him, observing the emotion in his eyes. "Promise me you'll never do the same, Tony."

His smile is tender and fond. "I promise, Mikaela," he says softly, bringing his other hand to the back of her head and pulling her in to him. He kisses her forehead before tucking her head under his chin, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You're the closest thing I have to a family as well, you know," he tells her.

She smiles, sniffing, and blinks away her tears. She feels like they've torn down an invisible barrier between them, and while she feels painfully vulnerable, she knows in her heart that Tony will always be there for her, protecting her as she'll protect him.

xxxxxxxxx

 **... too fluffy? I hope not!**


	18. Magneto

**Chapter Eighteen - Magneto**

For months, Mikaela bounces between Wade and Vanessa, Xavier's school, and Tony. She even found herself meandering into Queens a couple of times, hoping to make a decision about Parker on whether she likes him or not. Just when she thinks she might, he goes and does or says something stupid that knocks him back down to "undecided". Despite that, she continues to check for any unwanted discoveries on his behalf.

She and Tony get along even better than they did before, after their emotional breakthrough - which Wade will not drop due to his supposed influence. They've talked about past traumas in their families and in their general histories too. He admitted that while she was on her manhunt with Wade, Tony was briefly knocking on death's door until he created a new element, which was fucking horrible news to her. In retaliation, she told him about all the criminal things she was a part of while she was in the gang. He seemed reasonably disturbed.

Wade and Vanessa seem to be absolutely fine, and getting even better as the days pass. They love having her over and getting her drunk, but sometimes they just sit in and watch a movie or go play mini golf and stuff, which is kinder on Mikaela's stomach and head. They're like her older siblings, or cool aunt and uncle.

And then there's Parker. Incessant, sincere, friendly, overbearing, nosey, sweet Parker. She covers up the real purpose of seeking him out to decide her feelings on him by claiming she wants to give him updates on the NYPD and journalists' progress on uncovering his identity. He hounds her with questions about Tony and whether he's going to get in contact with Parker at any point, and Mikaela tells him over and over again that Tony is a busy man and it is Happy that Parker should contact about it all, him being Asset Manager now. But still Parker persists. He goes on at her about school and friends and some girl he likes - he even asks her for romantic advice, which is monumentally foolish.

But, while things are looking up in these areas, she has a lingering sense of dread whenever she thinks of mutants. Magneto continues to recruit mutants off the street, out of hiding, and even a few more from inside the school. Storm, Jean, and Scott are becoming increasingly worried about Mikaela, having heard rumours of Magneto's interest in her. She feels a little concerned, knowing that they and Tony at least would be upset if anything were to happen to her, but apart from that, she doesn't feel the need to become distressed. She is comfortable in the knowledge that, while she doesn't feel compelled to _protect_ the world, she doesn't exactly feel compelled to _attack_ it either.

Magneto's gang is not the place for her, and he won't convince her otherwise. But that won't stop him from trying.

"I really think it'd be safer if you just stayed here until Magneto's interest blows over," Storm says, a concerned frown distorting her face.

"Magneto isn't just going to lose interest, Storm," Logan counters. "Mikaela could be invaluable to him. He won't let her slip through his fingers."

"Are you trying to argue for Mikaela staying or leaving?" Storm retorts, confused.

"Either way, he'll get to her."

"He wouldn't get her here," Scott cuts in. "There's no way he'd attack us here just for Mikaela."

"I agree," Jean nods. "It's too much of a risk for him with the Professor here."

"Ultimately, it isn't our decision to make," Xavier says calmly, drawing the attention of the room.

Mikaela meets his steady gaze from where she sits, perched on the armrest of a couch. She sighs and lifts a hand to rub her forehead, despite the almost imperceptible pain that afflicts her so little now she barely notices.

"I don't see the harm in doing what I always do," she shrugs, glancing around at them. "I hide myself from cameras wherever I go, and I hide my face as best I can from people on the street without looking suspicious. I doubt he'd even be able to find me. The kids he recruited most likely don't know about my friendship with Tony, or Wade and Vanessa, so they won't look for me there. And Jean and Scott are right - I doubt he'd attack the school and risk fighting all of you _just_ to try recruit me. Besides, there's no harm in us just talking."

"Magneto's unpredictable," Logan frowns. "He might not like it if you tell him to fuck off."

Storm clicks her tongue and scowls at his language. "Logan," she mutters quietly. He just quirks an eyebrow at her and takes a puff of his cigar.

"Then I'll tell him nicely," Mikaela smiles.

"We can't make you do anything you don't want to do, and it seems there will be no convincing you otherwise," Xavier sighs. He looks at Jean, Storm, and Scott. "We have to let her go and trust that Magneto won't be rash."

"And what happens if he _is_ rash?" Storm demands. "What happens when he kidnaps Mikaela? Or worse?"

"Then I learn my lesson," Mikaela interrupts before anyone can say anything. "Look, I don't want to be trapped here, and I don't want to put the school at risk - even if Magneto wouldn't attack. If he's going to approach me, it's better if he does it somewhere far away from impressionable kids."

Logan shrugs. "She has a point."

"Make sure someone always knows where you are," Jean says kindly. "And just.. be careful."

"Always," Mikaela winks. "I'll be back in, like, a week and a half anyway, you'll all be fed up of me soon." She slides off the armrest and fixes her clothes, smiling at them. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a spider to check up on."

"Someone's eager," Logan grunts, eyeing her through the smoke from his cigar.

Mikaela sends him a sarcastic smile. "He's taken on his first big thing," she explains. "Tony warned him off it, but, he's persistent."

"Are you going to intervene?" Scott asks, crossing his arms.

"Nah," Mikaela replies, smothering the jolt of worry that always rushes through her when she thinks of Parker taking on this Vulture guy. "We need to see what he can do. And he needs room to make his own mistakes and learn from them."

Xavier smiles. "A firm but effective method."

Mikaela shrugs. "I don't know if it's what Tony wants because I haven't really told him everything - I'm worried he might end up babying the kid or something, he's getting soft in his old age." She watches a couple of them roll their eyes before grinning. "Alright, I'll see you guys later."

"Keep us updated," Storm commands. "I want a message every morning and every evening until you come back."

"Yes, mum," Mikaela jokes.

She leaves the school and the worried adults behind her, breathing in the fresh air and struggling to keep Parker's predicament out of her mind. She concentrates instead on the sound of her feet trudging along the driveway, watching the grey gravel pass under her. In the distance, she can hear the students playing outside in the sun, living their best lives, and she just hopes that Magneto won't corrupt any more of them.

"You're Mikaela, aren't you?" a small voice asks suddenly.

Mikaela stops and looks to her left, observing the young boy. He is only a couple of years younger than her, with eyes that won't focus on her and fingers that twitch and fiddle nervously. His shoulders are hunched inwards, emphasising the vulnerable, nervous demeanor.

"Yeah," she replies, wary.

He grips his fingers so hard they turn white. "Magneto wants to speak with you."

Anger flares in her chest and her face contorts. "How do you know that?" She keeps her voice mildly pleasant in case the kid's just unwillingly gained the knowledge.

"He told me."

The boy won't make eye contact with her. "What else did he tell you?"

"Nothing," he says quickly. "Will you meet him?"

Mikaela eyes the boy, angry on his behalf. "If you don't want to talk to Magneto, you don't have to," she tells him. "Go to the Professor and he'll protect you."

"Will you meet him?" the boy asks again, a hint of desperation seeping into his voice.

Mikaela straightens and considers the question. "Fine. Where?"

When the boy gives her the location, he runs off, preventing her from pursuing his situation further. She doesn't want to let Xavier or anyone know about him, because that will bring unwanted questions. Mikaela is confident that Magneto won't attack her, especially when he chose such a public place to meet, so she knows she won't need back-up. Besides, she's a big girl - she can tell an evil villain "no" all by herself.

As she makes her way to meet with Magneto, Mikaela reaches out with her mind and finds Parker's phone.

"Something came up, can't meet. NYPD and journalists are just as stumped as they were two weeks ago. Be careful with Vulture. Don't do anything stupid," she texts him. After a thought occurs to her, she sends another. "Enjoy Homecoming with Liz."

He doesn't have any way of replying to her since she didn't send the text from an actual phone number, so she just pulls away and distracts herself with thoughts of Magneto.

She remembers suddenly that she has pieces of metal on her person for various reasons. Her gun is stowed away safely under a floorboard in her room at the school, because she feels she has no reason to use it anymore and finds its presence on her unnerving, but she is certain that if she were to bring it with her to meet Magneto she would be making a mistake. It is the small pieces dotted around her body that causes her to wonder. What message would she be sending if she kept them?

On one hand, if she were to arrive to their meeting with a complete lack of metal on her, it might imply fear or the expectation of a fight. If she were to arrive with the metal still present, it might imply a calm and peaceful demeanor, or it might imply that she is a total idiot.

Mikaela decides to leave the metal where it is. Magneto can think of it as he will in the first impression, but once they speak, he will know the correct implication.

As for her attitude, she doesn't want to seem friendly, because that would be false and she is sure he wouldn't appreciate falsity. But she can't approach him with hostility without provoking something that might be prevented otherwise. A balance between confidence and caution will most likely serve, so she works to concentrate on those emotions as she travels.

Unbidden, her mind often wanders back to Parker and the way trouble has been finding him recently. The stunt on the ferry proved his limitations, although she had been secretly impressed by his attempts at keeping the separate sides together. While Tony took the suit off of Parker, she knows the man is still planning on revealing his new design for Parker at some point - he's just waiting for the lesson to be learned.

Parker had actually tried to enlist her help in his mission to take down the Vulture at first, but she had refused, flattered as she was that he would come to her for help without hesitation. She had explained that he needed to tackle this with as little outside help as possible - even though Tony was interfering - so that he could learn his own limits, motivations, and strategies. He had been pleasantly understanding about it.

But now, since the threat only grew stronger and Parker is back to his shitty onesie, Mikaela feels a little concerned for the kid. She has to stop herself from second guessing her decision to stay out of it all, anxious that something might go wrong that she could have prevented. She isn't fond of this side of her. It makes things complicated and confusing.

When Mikaela's foot hits the tarmac under the step of the bus, she reigns her thoughts in to one specific subject: Magneto. She can almost see the area he told her they'd meet in from where she stands, but it takes her five minutes to walk through the people and the park to reach it.

She extends a hand out to push a small, metal gate out of her way, ignoring the creak of protest ringing in her ears. Her eyes are fixed to the back of an elderly man's head, topped with a classy hat. He sits alone at a chess table, running his fingers along the pieces. Mikaela takes a calming breath and approaches him from behind.

"Mikaela," he greets before she even reaches his side.

Stopping a frown, she subtly glances at their surroundings to try and spot an onlooker who might have conveyed her appearance. When she finds no one but civilians, she slips into the seat opposite him and nods.

"Erik," she greets in reply.

The shadow from the brim of his hat sits just under his eyes, shielding them from the bright sun. His mouth twitches, betraying something like grim amusement for a mere moment.

"So, are you manipulating that boy into your gang or did you just pick him as a messenger?" she asks, allowing a hint of accusation in her tone.

He tuts, frowning at her disappointedly like a teacher would at a student who got a question wrong. "Manipulating is not a pleasant word," he dodges. "It suggests ill intent, and I do not wish to harm the boy in any way. I strive to _liberate_ mutants from their oppressors, not oppress them myself."

Mikaela quirks an eyebrow. "Solid answer," she says, smiling tensely.

He smiles kindly, although it seems patronising and false to her. "Am I to assume you disagree with my stance?"

Mikaela shrugs. "I would say so."

His eyes narrow at her curiously. "You have killed before," he observes.

Mikaela tries to stop the words, but she is too confused. "How do you know that?"

He smiles grimly. "Taking a person's life from them leaves a mark on your soul. I recognise in you what I see in myself."

Mikaela makes an unconvinced face. "I doubt we're similar in that aspect, or in any," she contends.

"Our reasons for killing may be different," he says, "But that does not dispute the fact that we have both killed."

"I think your reasons are a _tad_ more selfish than mine."

"Really?" he asks doubtfully. "Please, elaborate."

She frowns slightly. Her fists clench and unclench. "I killed someone because they posed a threat to mutant children."

"And to yourself?" he asks knowingly. "I have the same reasons, but mine extend to all of the mutants, young and old, fierce and cowardly."

Mikaela's eyes move to the sun-streaked trees behind Magneto, struggling to retain the solid justification of her actions that she impressed upon herself so long ago. This guy is threatening to unravel everything she had so desperately done to ensure her killing of Diez wouldn't drive her mad. It is pissing her off.

"Let's agree to disagree," she deflects, moving her gaze back to him. Ignoring the tiny smile of satisfaction on his face, she asks, "Why am I here?"

He leans back in his seat and regards her calmly. "I don't believe you are so ignorant as to not have an idea," he says.

Mikaela resists the urge to roll her eyes. She can see why he and Xavier were once friends, with their mutual love of being vague and elusive. Although Xavier doesn't seem to do it to put people down, he does it to help people learn their own truths and grow.

"You want to use me. Well, my mutation," Mikaela says.

Magneto sighs in that disappointed tone again. "I would never _use_ you, Mikaela," he lies. "I would help you see the truth in our fight and recruit you to our cause. What you would do to help us would be completely up to you."

"Somehow, I don't believe that," she says with mock confusion.

His face hardens almost imperceptibly. "You resent the similarity that exists within us," he persists. "But we have both done what is necessary for the safety of our brothers and sisters. We are both willing to sacrifice the purity of our hearts to protect our fellow mutants. We have both seen the cruelty humans treat our species with. How do you expect to end such cruelty?"

Mikaela observes him and ponders the question. "To be honest, I don't think I expect an end to it at all. Even if we convince 99% of humans that we are no threat to them and they treat us equally, there will still be that 1% who lash out. Humans don't even treat _each other_ with respect, I highly doubt they'll try with us."

Her answer seems to please him. "That is the conclusion I reached as well. But there is still a solution to end the cruelty."

Mikaela sighs and scratches the scar under her jaw. "Yeah, mutant domination over humans," she says flatly, unimpressed. "Swapping places won't solve anything."

He frowns. "Of course it will. Mutants would no longer be punished for being who they are."

"At the expense of humans," she smirks coldly. She has never felt that she owes the world anything, but she wouldn't actively wage war against it. Even she has to admit that there are humans who would never hurt mutants just because they're mutants.

He clasps his hands on the table in front of him. "I see Charles' naivety has influenced your attitude towards humans."

"No," she shakes her head. "I just know what's right."

"And protecting your species from harm isn't the right thing to do?"

"Not if you employ the methods _you_ want to use," she retorts.

He sighs. "This is the way of war," Erik tells her. "I work to end the discrimination and unwarranted hatred of mutants by an inferior race."

"See, you're _so_ close to being admirable," Mikaela winces sarcastically. "But then you keep talking and you ruin it."

He picks up a pawn and twists it around and around in his hand, his fingers pressing against the piece so hard they turn white. A look of resignation crosses his face, but there are undertones of determination. "Perhaps you are too young to see the truth," he muses. His eyes glance to the chess pieces before him. Mikaela can see his mind forming plans and ideas in the silence.

Then he looks up again and smiles, putting the pawn back where it came from. "Once you see the truth, you will not resent me or my cause the way you do now." He stands and fixes the buttons on his coat. "Until then," he says, tipping his hat to her with a smile that sets her nerves on edge.

She watches him walk out of her view, frowning at his back. A sense of dread worms its way into her heart, the image of his mind working and his ominous words lingering in her memory. She knows now that she has a new enemy to be wary of. She knows she needs to be careful about where she shows herself and how long she stays in the same place.

She is back to living her life the way she did when Diez was chasing her.

Irritated, she sighs and leans her elbows on the table, rubbing her eyes with her hands. It seems her life will always resort back to this paranoid, hidden version of itself. And, now, she has even more people who could be hurt to manipulate her.

"Hey, you playing?" a man's voice asks behind her. He stands with an obvious friend lingering behind him. All the other chess tables are full.

Mikaela shakes her head and stands from the seat, making her way back into the park. Her mind feels clogged with dread, paranoia, and concern, and she knows she'll be no use to anyone in such a state. She needs to go somewhere quiet and settle herself.

xxxxxxx

Some hours later, Mikaela sits in the light of the moon, buried in the material of her jumper to ward off the chilly air. Her eyes are closed, her chest expanding as she inhales deeply. Her legs are crossed underneath her on the soft soil she eventually set herself down upon, and they've gone numb from how long she has sat there.

She has shut her mind off from everything technological - a difficult decision considering Parker's likely engagement in trouble - and let her emotions work through her. She had known there was no point fighting them, and she wouldn't manage to bury them, so she decided to let them wreak havoc in her chest and mind for as long as they needed.

Finally, she feels calm and collected. It had been a completely unpleasant experience that left her breathless more times than once, but now she feels far more at ease. She feels rationally concerned and logical, and knows that now she is prepared for anything Magneto might throw at her.

Mikaela's eyes snap open suddenly, her body going rigid. She frowns, bewildered, as untouched memories flash in the forefront of her mind. She remembers, as if without control, everything about her father taking her from Scotland across to America. She remembers his attempts to manipulate her and use her powers to increase his own wealth. She remembers how he treated her, how they lost the typical father-daughter relationship they once had. She remembers how she left him behind to pursue her own path.

Additional to the sudden appearance of these memories, Mikaela experiences an intense feeling of _relief_ , as if she's been working for weeks to break through a barrier, and she's finally just managed to do it. The weird thing is, the sensation feels foreign, alien, as if it has not actually come from Mikaela herself, but has been impressed upon her by someone else. The thought makes her shiver, and she instinctively remembers times when Xavier successfully penetrated her thoughts, few as they were.

She stands up from her position, shaking herself as if it will send the memories away. Somehow it doesn't work. She involuntarily remembers everything about her father. And then memories of Tony and Parker flash through her mind. At this point, she is more than suspicious.

She lets her anger fuel her shout of "Enough!", concentrating on the emotion as hard as she can. But her mind continues to sift through her memories.

Enraged, she launches her mind into the internet, expanding it to the point that it buzzes deafeningly with information and data. She lets the technology consume her, overwhelming her to the extent of pain and distress.

And the memories stop.

She breathes a sigh of relief and reigns in her consciousness once more, cherishing the silence. Lifting a hand to rub her forehead, she closes her eyes against a new onslaught of anxiety. She is quite convinced that someone just got into her mind, and she knows it wasn't Xavier because he would have announced himself. While he has told her of the existence of other telepaths - Jean included - he claimed none of them were more powerful than him; but even he had not managed to gain such control over Mikaela before.

Wondering if it was a fluke because of the vulnerable state she had been in, Mikaela draws her jumper in closer to her. Whoever the mutant is, they had been interested in her father, Tony, and Parker.

Mikaela's face contorts unhappily. The mutant had sifted through her memories of Parker as a normal kid, and as a masked vigilante. They'll know he's Spider-Man, and that puts him in great danger.

Mikaela doesn't want Parker to be in danger because of her. She resolves to keep a close eye on him.


	19. Befriending a Spider

**Chapter Nineteen - Befriending A Spider**

Mikaela walks along the pavement, moving to avoid the people walking towards her who, for some reason, feel no need to move out the way. What makes them any better?

She feels her hackles rise and has to work at controlling her aggravation - they don't know she's a mutant; she needs to remember that most people don't.

Any time someone's eyes linger on her, she delves into their online profiles, scrutinising everything she can see about them, past and present, trying to figure out who they are. Everyone is a potential threat to her now. She has a damn good idea of who employed a telepath to find out sensitive information about her life, but she has no idea who the telepath was and whether they are following her every move.

Of course, she can see that no one is physically following her, but mutants have a plethora of resources at their fingertips, and she remains cautious.

As she approaches her destination, Mikaela extends her mind to Parker's phone and texts him, "Pack a bag, we're going to the Tower."

She hesitates at the bottom of the apartment building, staring up at his floor. More people walk by too close for comfort, and she changes her mind, moving to the door. She hits the buzzer for a random apartment and makes up a story about losing her key. Then she enters the building and climbs the stairs, her eyes gravitating to dark spots and suspicious doorways.

When she gets to his floor, she pauses again. This feels almost invasive to her, coming so close to his home, to his aunt. For a moment, she considers going back down and pretending she had never come this close to the thing he wants to protect most in the world.

She smirks bitterly, wondering at the change in herself. The old Mikaela would have knocked down the door, given his aunt a charming grin, and dragged Parker out the door. Or, more accurately, she never would have even considered collecting him from his home for this reason.

She leans against the wall opposite his door, scratching at a spot of her scalp just under her cap. She can hear his aunt asking questions loudly inside, to which he replies with a dulled excitement.

"One minute or I'm leaving," Mikaela texts him.

They go quiet for a moment, then she hears his aunt call loud and clear, " _Who_ is picking you up?"

Another moment passes, and then the door swings open.

Mikaela looks up at the surprised face of Parker's aunt.

"Oh," the woman says, her face relaxing into an amused smile. "Well, hi there."

"May!" Parker shouts, exasperated.

Mikaela does her best to smile politely. "Hi."

"You must be the mysterious collector," the woman continues, kind. She extends a hand. "I'm May."

Mikaela glances at the hand before shaking it. "Mikaela."

May appraises Mikaela, her amusement persisting, but her eyes lingering on Mikaela's facial scars. "Are you in Peter's class?"

Mikaela's hand twitches. "No, I'm not."

"Oh. What grade are you in then?"

Mikaela winces with a small smile. "I'm not in any."

May is becoming somewhat less amused and more concerned. "Okay. Well, obviously you're British - did you finish school early and come over for college? Are you some child genius?"

"May!" Parker whines.

May's eyebrows furrow when Mikaela shakes her head. "Do you know Peter from his… _activities_ outside of school?" she asks quietly.

Mikaela glances into the apartment, desperate to be out of the situation. "Yeah, I do."

"Peter, unpack your bags," May snaps.

"Aunt May-"

"Nope," she smiles angrily, turning to face him. "I still need to come to terms with this shit. Until then, you know the rules."

"To be fair to him, he's more than-" Mikaela tries.

"Nope!" May says chirpily, anger still permeating her tone. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you're a good kid, but-"

"Mikaela has been looking out for me since, like, the first month of-" Parker exclaims, cutting himself off before he shouts his alter ego. "She's been keeping an eye on the news and the police, and making sure I wasn't doing anything stupid."

May gives him a hard look.

"Anything _more_ stupid," he corrects.

May sighs and brings a hand to her forehead. "And you _let_ him continue?" she groans at Mikaela, almost seeming guilty for reacting as she has. "To be honest, I would have preferred if he was caught by the police," she announces, moving her hand to her hip. "At least then he'd be out of danger."

Mikaela purses her lips, ears pricked for any noises around them. "This seems like a bad conversation to be having in the hallway. People could get the wrong impression."

"You're right," May smiles. Mikaela sags with relief - maybe now she can leave. "Why don't you come in so we can finish it?"

"May," Peter sighs.

"You think I'll let you go this easy?" she retorts.

She gestures for Mikaela to follow as she leaves the door open and walks further into the apartment. Parker catches Mikaela's eyes and gives her an apologetic look before following his aunt.

Mikaela feels her chest tighten uncomfortably. She has seen and heard Parker come home to this place more times than she cares to count. This is his _home_ and she has been painfully aware of that fact and the fact that she doesn't have an equivalent for as long as she's been watching him. To enter his home, knowing how much he values it and how sacred it is to him, while she does not have one of her own..

She moves her foot over the threshold, her fist clenching and unclenching. She frowns down at her view of her trainer on the floor of their home. It feels wrong to her, as if she's tainting the place with her presence.

She feels like she doesn't deserve to be here.

"Mikaela?" a voice asks softly, somewhat concerned.

She looks up at Parker, still frowning. "This is your home," is all she can say.

She spots the threat of a frown on his forehead, but then his eyes soften and he smiles gently. "I know," he says. "It's okay."

She blinks at him and looks down at her foot again. Then she lifts her other foot and brings it into view as well. Parker waits patiently for her to make a few more steps, as if making sure she feels as though she is doing this of her own accord, before closing the door behind her. If he had done that after her second step in, she would have felt trapped and forced inside, but now somehow it feels almost welcoming. It makes her wonder if he was aware of the difference.

She can feel him behind her as she moves to the living room area. May is stood at the far end of the room, lost in thought.

"Do you wanna sit?" Parker asks quietly so to not let May hear.

Mikaela's fists clench and unclench again, her chest tightening painfully. "I don't think so," she breathes.

She isn't sure why she is having such an intense reaction to being inside Parker's home. She never had an issue with Tony's homes, Wade and Vanessa's home, or the school, which is home to many young and adult mutants. Maybe it is because she and Parker have both suffered trauma at a young age, and because they are the same age but Parker is in a much happier, healthier place than she is, and because he has a home, and she doesn't.

Parker doesn't sit when Mikaela says she doesn't think she wants to. She isn't sure whether it is a conscious decision on his part, but she appreciates it anyway.

"May, Mikaela was trusted by Mr Stark to find me and keep an eye on me until he could get in contact," Parker says to his aunt.

"Wait, you _found_ him? So you're the reason Stark was able to drag him into all this?" May asks, eyebrows raised.

Parker winces next to Mikaela, but the hint of accusation in the woman's voice serves to ground Mikaela. She can deal with confrontation, so she focuses in on it, blocking out all other thoughts.

"I'm the reason Tony was able to build a new suit for Parker which monitors his vitals and is installed with a system that can help him in ways no one else could."

"Letting him get into the big fights," May counters.

"Which, by the way, he not only survived, but proved his ability to handle himself and enemies we previously thought would be too much for him. These big fights allowed him to show us what he's made of, and we've all been taught a lesson, to be honest. Parker is smart, strong, and the most determined person I have ever met."

Mikaela stands perfectly still after her speech, ignoring Parker's eyes boring holes into the side of her head. She keeps her eye contact with May, assertive but not hostile.

May shifts, her hands gripping her hips, her jaw working. "His name is Peter," she says lamely, hiding her amusement at herself.

Mikaela shrugs, allowing a small smile. "Parker is fine for now."

May considers them both for another moment, before she sighs loudly, dropping her hands to slap against her thighs. "What am I _supposed_ to do here?" she laughs. "I'm meant to be looking after you, but I can't do that when you're out there."

The two share an emotive look that makes Mikaela feel out of place, so she speaks again to make them move past the moment. "That's why we always have his back," she says. "He isn't alone when he goes out. There is always someone watching. And if there wasn't, his suit would let someone know if there was anything bad happening anyway."

"See?" Parker says, moving towards his aunt. "You don't have to be worried."

She glares at him playfully. "I know I don't _have_ to, stupid. Don't you think I'd choose not to if I had a choice?"

He grins at her, and she extends her arms to pull him into an embrace, cradling his head against her. Parker seems a little embarrassed, but returns the hug with as much affection as she gives him.

Mikaela's heart hurts.

When the two separate, May sighs shakily and looks to Mikaela again. "What's with the scars?" she asks bluntly.

"May!" Parker chastises. "You can't just _ask_ people things like that."

Mikaela shrugs. "They're lessons," she answers vaguely. When she realises she has disturbed them a little, she adds, "I've learned them, which means he doesn't have to - as long as he listens to me."

May sorts her hair and top, recovering from their emotional moment, and moves away from Parker to the kitchen. She hums ambiguously in reply to Mikaela, but then says, "They look kind of badass."

Mikaela's eyebrows lift as she smirks in amusement. "Thanks."

May smiles. Then she cocks her head and returns her hands to her hips. "Wait a minute, what exactly is so special about you that should make me feel better about you watching Peter?"

Mikaela expands her mind, letting tendrils of control grasp May's mobile, landline, Parker's phone, their TV, laptop, and radio. Then she speaks without moving her mouth, listening to the various speakers project her voice.

"I'm a technopath."

May flinches, glancing around at the various gadgets. Parker cranes his neck to look at the back pocket of his jeans, where his phone spoke from.

"That was creepy," May comments. "But, I suppose, convincing."

Mikaela retreats from the gadgets and opens her mouth to speak again. "It means I can watch Parker no matter where I am. I can see him through CCTV cameras, I can listen through his phone, and I can hook in to his suit when he's wearing it."

"She's saved a guy's life with her mutation," Parker pipes up, still impressed but also almost.. proud?

Mikaela glances at the floor, brushing away the memories of her killing Diez. She wonders what Parker would think of that, if he knew.

"Ugh," May groans, waving a hand in the air. "Fine. You can have your superhero sleepover. As long as you text me when you get there, before you go to bed, when you wake up-"

"And when I'm coming home," Parker smiles fondly.

May sighs, her own fond smile growing on her face. Then she shrugs in a "I'm not sorry" way, and says, "You're all I have, kid."

Parker's expression is soft but sad. "I'm not going anywhere, Aunt May."

Mikaela stares at the ground between her feet, monumentally uncomfortable and out of place. She doesn't belong in this loving home - she has no idea how to behave.

"Alright, I'll get my bag," Parker says after a moment, walking from the room.

Mikaela watches him go before turning her attention back to May, who is already watching her. The woman walks closer, but not in a threatening way.

"Did you mean it when you said he'd always have you watching his back?" she asks.

Mikaela expects to feel reluctance as the answer formulates in her mind; however, all she experiences is sincerity, as if she had already subconsciously resigned herself to this.

"Yes. I'll watch out for him for as long as he is Spider-Man."

May smiles, but her eyes narrow curiously. "Can I ask why?"

Mikaela looks away for a moment, considering the question. Then she shrugs. "I guess I feel responsible, having been the one who found him."

Before May can reply, Parker walks back into the room, glancing between them. "Everything okay?" he asks, hopeful.

Mikaela pushes down the embarrassment that rises, the relief that he didn't hear anything, and nods. "You ready?"

"Yeah," he replies, shifting his bag strap further up his shoulder.

Mikaela turns her body halfway towards the door, feeling awkward. "Em, nice to meet you," she says to May.

"You too," the woman says, with a genuine smile on her face. Her eyes are soft - a silent thank you to Mikaela.

Mikaela walks out of the apartment, leaving the other two to say their goodbyes, and starts heading down the hallway. After a few moments, Parker jogs down after her.

"Sorry, I, uh, I didn't expect her to interrogate you," he smiles sheepishly.

Mikaela glances at him and shakes her head. "It's fine. She has every right to be concerned. You've both been through a lot recently."

Mikaela leads them down the stairs, her chest too tight already to put herself through a claustrophobic elevator ride.

"Did you mean what you said back there?" he asks hesitantly.

Mikaela clears her throat. "The way you handled the Vulture guy was impressive," she says.

Parker smiles, but it's bittersweet. "Thanks," he says halfheartedly.

They walk through the front doors of his building and turn right onto the pavement. Mikaela winces to herself.

"I didn't want to get you on that train of thought," she says.

Parker frowns and perks himself up. "What? Oh, no, don't worry about it. I'm fine."

Mikaela stops on the street, staring at its expanse and thinking of how far it is from here to the Tower. She steps closer to the road and hails a cab.

"Sure you are," she says with unenthusiastic sarcasm. At least it means she's began the process of returning to her normal self after that anxiety-ridden experience.

When he doesn't reply, she glances at him, and instantly feels guilty. He really liked Liz, and she had to move away because he caught her dad. The lingering heartbreak is evident on his face.

Mikaela puts a hand on his shoulder, bringing his attention back to the present, and guides him to the cab. "We'll talk it out when we get to Tony's," she tells him.

She climbs in the car behind him and gives the driver an address two blocks away from the Tower - she doesn't want to raise suspicions.

"No, it's fine, I don't want to ruin-" Parker attempts.

"Why do you think we're having a 'superhero sleepover'?" she asks, bending her fingers in quotation marks.

Parker frowns. "I don't know. I thought it was gonna be a team building exercise or something. I didn't expect _you_ to want to do anything so-" he cuts himself off, wincing. Clearly he thought better of the end of that sentence.

Mikaela smirks, allowing the snap judgement. "Normally, you'd be right."

Parker shifts, glancing out the window then back at her. "Why is this different?" he asks tentatively.

She shrugs. "Maybe my emotional intelligence is maturing," she jokes. Although, it's probably accurate.

They sit quietly for the rest of the car journey. Then Mikaela pulls cash out of her pocket and hands it to the driver, thanking him, and they get out onto the street.

Parker looks a little confused at his surroundings. "Why didn't we get out at the Tower?"

"I'm trying to _not_ make anyone suspicious of you, Parker, give me a break," she sighs.

They walk to the Tower and enter through the reception. Mikaela nods at the receptionist on today, who recognises her as someone who can come and go as she pleases. They are forced to take the elevator this time, since the stairs would likely kill Mikaela.

"Hi, Mikaela. Hi, Peter," FRIDAY greets them when the doors close.

Mikaela smiles at the wall. "Hey, FRIDAY."

They lapse into silence as the elevator rises, but it is a comfortable one. Parker seems too awed to say anything in particular, especially when the doors open on the level with the recreational area and Tony's lab.

Mikaela walks out of the metal box, leaving Parker behind. Tony walks towards them, smiling, wiping his hands with a dirty rag.

"Hey, kid," he greets her. Then he stops and looks behind her. Mikaela smirks. "Hey, Pete," he says, almost uncomfortable. "Is that a," he pauses, frowning, " _Bag_ you have there?"

"Hi, Mr Stark," Parker replies. "Uh, yeah it is. This place is amazing, by the way."

Mikaela walks towards the bar as Parker goes to the wall of giant windows. Tony follows Mikaela.

"He has a bag," the man muses quietly. "Why does he have a bag?"

Mikaela takes a glass and opens the lemonade tap over it. "We're staying here tonight," she explains.

"Oh, are you?" he asks, confused. "Did I make drunk plans again?"

"Nope," she smiles, before taking a healthy drink.

Tony flicks her forehead. "You're a pain in my ass. And you brought an even bigger pain in my ass." He frowns over at the boy for a moment, crossing his arms. Then he leans in to Mikaela and mutters grumpily, "Did you know he turned the new suit down? _And_ a place on the team?"

"Yes," she sighs, bored of hearing him complain about it.

"I had to propose to Pepper instead," Tony pouts.

Mikaela grins up at him. "What a hardship."

She has met Pepper since the very public engagement announcement, and was flattered to find that the woman was offended that they had never met before. Pepper is a good match for Tony, Mikaela thinks, just as he is a good match for Pepper. They compliment each other well.

Tony's pout morphs into a content smile that he fails to hide. "You have no idea."

Mikaela rolls her eyes, ignoring the pang of jealousy that ignites in her stomach - she wonders if she'll ever find that specific kind of contentment.

"Thanks for letting me stay, Mr Stark," Parker says from behind her.

Mikaela turns to look at him, observing the genuine gratitude, excitement, and happiness on his face. She finds herself smiling at him, glad he's enjoying himself. When he meets her eyes, he smiles wider, conveying his excitement specifically to her.

"Oh, you know, I thought it would be good for you to see the Tower," Tony shrugs, gladly taking the position as organiser, despite the truth. "Do you want a tour?"

Parker's face lights up even more.

But then Tony continues, "I'm sure I could find someone to take you around."

Parker struggles to hide his disappointment and embarrassment. "Uh, nah, no I'm fine. It's okay," he says lamely, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh, really?" Tony asks, enjoying Parker's discomfort. "It's just, _I_ thought, it sounded like you kind of were _interested_ in my Tower, you know?" he says, slow and deliberate.

Mikaela slaps the man's shoulder and gestures for Parker to join her. "C'mon, there's a cosier room downstairs," she says, tossing a glare over her shoulder. Tony smirks and follows after them.

When they get to the room with the massive TV, Parker looks like a kid on Christmas. Mikaela and Tony pick a couch and slump onto it, kicking their feet up, while Parker wanders around, gazing at everything with awe. He looks like he's trying to memorise every detail.

"Hey, kid, relax," Tony calls. "Lose the bag."

Parker smiles sheepishly and moves to a couch near theirs, depositing his bag at his feet before sitting on the very edge of the cushion. Tony quirks an eyebrow at him, then gives Mikaela a look. She gives him a look of her own, challenging his, and he sighs and says nothing.

Smug, Mikaela smiles at Parker. "So, May," she says.

Parker smiles sheepishly. "She's protective. She made me promise not to go out until she's gotten used to the idea."

"She'll never get used to it," Tony assures him.

"I know," Parker replies, shrugging a shoulder. "I just go out when she's sleeping."

"Has she seen any videos of you or anything?" Mikaela asks.

Parker shakes his head. "I tried to show her but she would just slap my phone out of my hand."

When they chuckle at the imagery, Mikaela takes a snapshot of the moment in her mind, and mentally leaves the room, reaching back to Queens. May is watching the TV in their apartment, so Mikaela infiltrates it and projects her mental snapshot onto the screen.

"Just to put your mind at ease," Mikaela has text read over the picture.

She withdraws from the TV and apartment and returns to the Tower. Parker is watching her curiously.

"Your eyes go grey when you use your mutation, don't they?" he asks rhetorically. "I thought I saw some grey in your eyes when we picked you up from that apartment before Berlin, but I wasn't sure. Does it not happen every time you use it?"

Mikaela shrugs, quietly flattered by his curiosity. "If what I'm doing requires more than a flicker of concentration, my eyes go grey," she replies.

He smiles in wonder. "Mutations are so interesting," he says. "How many mutants do you know?"

Tony shifts next to Mikaela. "Uh, Pete, it's not really our place to ask questions like that," he tells the spiderling.

Mikaela feels bad. She sighs and shakes her head. "You've proved you're trustworthy to mutants," she says to Tony, remembering how he let them in his Tower to help Mikaela after Ultron hurt her. She knows for a fact that he has no information on mutants anywhere but his brain, and that he'd never share it without permission. "And Parker," she continues, looking over at him. "He's too nice to tell anyone anything."

She considers what she can tell them, acutely aware that some information might help them be prepared if Magneto ever came after them. She desperately wants to warn them, but she doesn't know if they're actually in danger or not, and she doesn't want to worry them or make them think badly of mutants.

"There are all kinds of mutations," Mikaela begins, watching Parker sit back in his seat, finally getting comfortable. "There are offensive mutations, defensive mutations, and mutations that would be of absolutely no use in a fight. There are mutations that relate to fire, water, stone, air, the weather, the ground, nature, animals, technology, minds, metal, wood, bone, poison, smells," she lists, waving her hands to suggest she could go on for a while. "Sometimes the same mutation pops up in more than one mutant, and sometimes there is only ever one case of it that we're aware of."

"Your mutation seems like it would be one of the most powerful," Parker says, having absorbed every single word she said.

Mikaela's smile is bittersweet. "Depends what you mean by powerful. As far as destruction goes, you wouldn't believe how powerful some mutants are. But I wouldn't say I'm the most powerful in any aspect, save technopathy - because I haven't heard of anyone else with it."

"Can you tell a mutant apart from a human?"

Mikaela cocks her head at him, intrigued by his thought process. "No, I can't. But a telepath could if they looked into the mutant's mind."

"Can telepaths control people?" Parker asks, a hint of wariness in his voice. Tony shifts next to Mikaela, glancing at her.

She winces internally, and takes a moment to consider how she'll word her answer. "To varying extents, yes," she nods, watching Parker frown. " _But_ , the most powerful telepath at the moment is also the kindest, most understanding and patient person I have ever met."

"There's more than one, then?" Tony speaks up, his fingers twitching.

Mikaela nods silently, feeling guilty for some reason, as if the existence of hostile telepaths is her fault.

"Could they find out who I really am?" Parker asks quietly, his hands rubbing at each other.

Mikaela's chest tightens as she remembers one of them already has, because of _her_. "Mutants tend not to interfere with matters unrelated to them," she says, guilt and regret plaguing her mind. "Nobody will be going to the police or news stations about you." At least she believes that part.

Parker's head tilts sideways a little. "Do you guys, like, meet up somewhere to talk about mutants, or something? You know so much about them but I've never heard of mutant gatherings or anything."

Mikaela shifts in her seat and grimaces. "I don't think I should say more than I have already. I trust you both, but this isn't my information alone to divulge."

Parker shrugs with a smile. "That's fair."

"Sounds like an interesting world to live in," Tony says, his gaze alight with curiosity.

Mikaela's smile is awkward with bitterness. "Despite the discrimination and suffering." When she receives guilty and sympathetic looks, she feels uncomfortable. "Anyway. I didn't barge in on Tony to talk about mutants."

"Barge in?" Parker frowns, confused.

"I wanted you to have a space and an understanding audience," she continues, ignoring his query but addressing him.

He rubs at his hands. "For what?"

"You've been through some shit. Liz, Vulture, May," she trails off, leaving it open for him to pick up.

He frowns with a smile. "I'm fine, really."

Tony sighs. "I know that game."

"You really liked Liz," Mikaela summarises for Parker since he won't do it himself, "And she liked you too, but you didn't even get to dance with her because you had to take down her _dad_. Then, when you did, she had to move away."

Parker glances between her and Tony for a moment, still smiling uncomfortably. "It was the right thing to do."

"Of course it was," Tony says. "Still sucked though, right?"

Parker shrugs, his smile fading. He glances downwards and scratches at his chest.

Mikaela feels sorry for him. "Sometimes, the things people like us find ourselves getting into, end up making us sacrifice things we don't want to."

She notices Tony glance at her, somewhat amused, when Parker isn't looking. She sends him a brief, embarrassed scowl. This whole emotionally-available thing is still new to her and, yeah, maybe she sounds like someone out of a corny movie, but what else can she use for inspiration?

"I just wish I could have explained myself," Parker says quietly, sobering Mikaela and Tony again. He glances between the two of them and clears his throat, looking to the floor again with a shrug. "You know, just so she'd _get_ that my weirdness had nothing to do with her."

Mikaela nods, but can't think of anything to say in reply. Next to her, Tony shifts, and she can sense his discomfort.

"Well," he says, sighing. An awkward, silent moment passes. He gestures a hand vaguely and lets it slap back down on his thigh. "Secrecy is sometimes the best line of defense," he finally continues. "I failed, rather spectacularly, to keep my activities secret - mostly due to an overwhelming urge to receive even more fame and praise than I already did - and that put people I care about at risk. If word got out about who you really are, uh-" he trails off, clearly searching his memory.

Mikaela whispers, "Liz," through clenched teeth.

" _Liz_ , would have eventually been put in danger because of your," Tony gestures again with both hands, flapping them horizontally like a deformed bird, "connection." Once again letting his hands drop, he sighs as if having just expended a vast amount of energy, an expression of confused contemplation on his face.

Mikaela tries not to gawk at him and laugh at the absolute mess that just unfolded before her eyes. She clears her throat, bites the inside of her cheek, then turns to look at Parker. He looks a little confused as well, but also touched.

"The sentiment in the foundation of that catastrophe makes sense, if you think about it hard enough," she says, fighting back a smile. Parker meets her eyes and allows a small smile of his own. His reaction somehow gives her smile the strength to fight against her, and it grows on her face.

"I thought that was a good effort, for me," Tony huffs.

Mikaela pats his shoulder empathetically. "It really was. I'm so proud."

After a moment, Parker speaks up again. "It _is_ actually helpful to talk about this with people who actually understand what I'm talking about."

"I'm offended by your surprise," Mikaela replies playfully, sniffing. "But, seriously, it's good to talk shit out sometimes. Take it from us - the king and queen of the 'terrible handlers of emotion' club."

Parker grins. "You're better than you think."

Tony suddenly checks his phone and stands up. "You'll have to excuse me. My lady love is calling for me. Do what you want. Have fun." And, with that, he starts to walk towards the elevator.

Mikaela sits up and rubs her hands together, looking at Parker's happy, eager face. "Alright, Pete, you pick the movie, I'll make the popcorn."

As she stands up and walks to the microwave, she notices Parker falter. Then she looks to Tony, who is watching her with his eyebrows raised as the elevator doors close over him. Parker, wisely, says nothing, and acts as if she didn't just use his first name for the first time.

She stands with her back to him, watching the popcorn bag turn round and round in the microwave, the kernels popping loudly inside. Usually, she associates a person with the name she calls them by - but, now, when she thinks of his goofy, smiling, bright-eyed face, all she can attach to it is "Peter". "Parker" just feels weird now.

Silently groaning to herself, she realises she's just allowed herself to get even closer to one of the two people who might get used against her.

God damn you, Peter, and your incessant sweetness.


	20. Unbalanced

**Hello friends! I hope you are all well and still enjoying the story. Thanks to those of you who always leave a review with every chapter, and if anyone else has feedback please do the same! Love y'all xo** **Enjoy the latest chapter!**

 **Chapter Twenty - Unbalanced**

"Kid."

Peter's groan is muffled and drawn out.

"Hey, kid. You gotta speak to me."

Peter curls further into himself, just starting to acknowledge the pain in his body.

"C'mon, Peter, let me know you're alright."

Peter frowns and stops moving. "Mr Stark?"

"There we go. How you doing, Pete?" Mr Stark replies.

Peter tries to open his eyes, but ends up shutting them again against the bright lights that meet his sensitive retinas. He rubs at his temples with the heels of his palms.

"I hurt," he says.

"Yeah, me too," Mr Stark sighs.

It's strange, but Mr Stark sounds like he's scared and trying to hide it. If Mr Stark is scared, then something serious is going down.

Peter opens his eyes again, wincing at the light and the way it makes him hurt more, and pushes himself into a seated position.

The sight that greets him is beyond comprehension. He and Mr Stark are in separate metal cages, vertical bars surrounding them on each side and trapping them like zoo animals. Two tattooed men stand in front of the cages, smirking at them tauntingly. The men are almost identical, with scars shaped like 'M's on their foreheads. Their fingers twitch as if waiting to pounce on Peter and Mr Stark and rip them to pieces.

Their cages are in what appears to be an abandoned theater, with rows and rows of dirty, damaged seats and a dusty, cobwebby stage. The curtains hanging over the stage are dark with dirt and look like they've been ripped at by a monster.

About thirty men and women linger around the theater in small clumps, talking and laughing with harsh noises. They wear dark, ragged clothing and peer at the cages with distrustful, hateful eyes. Peter knows the people in the room would happily kill him, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

"Mr Stark?" he utters quietly, staring at the scarred man in front of his cage.

"I think we're out of our depth here, kid," Mr Stark replies, grim.

xxxxxxx

Mikaela's hands and fingers shake with untethered rage. She tries the door handle, but it's locked, so she knocks on the wood instead, hard and loud. An unbearably long moment passes before the door opens. Mikaela wastes no time pushing into the apartment.

"Woah, Mikaela," Vanessa says, "Are you okay?"

At her words, Wade comes round the corner with a questioning expression. He takes one look at Mikaela's face and his eyebrows shoot up.

"Who you gonna kill and can I come with you?" he asks, pointing at her.

"Give me a gun," she mutters, trying to search for his stash.

"What happened to the gun I gave you after Diez?" he asks, offended.

"It's at the school and I don't have _time_ ," she hisses, whirling round to face him. "Now, where _are_ they?"

"Cupcake, you gotta tell me what's going on," Wade demands, crossing his arms.

Mikaela works her jaw, pursing her lips. "He _has_ them."

Wade rolls his eyes. "Who has _who_?"

"He has Tony and Peter," Mikaela grits out, closing her eyes against the fresh wave of anger that courses through her. She opens her eyes again to look at Wade. "Magneto has Tony and Peter."

Wade's face drops, then hardens with determination. "Then let's go mutant hunting."

xxxxxxx

Peter watches the two men standing on the stage. One wears a cape and a weird helmet, while the other wears a dirty tank top and jeans. The man in the normal clothes keeps trying to get the caped man's attention, but the latter seems to think he's above the interaction.

"It seems like something's about to happen," the normally-clothed man is saying. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to reach out?"

Peter frowns at the man's accent. It sounds mostly American, but there's a different accent clearly lingering in the pronunciation of some of his words, as if he's merely adopted the American accent.

The caped man slowly turns to look at the normally-clothed man, unimpressed and intimidating. "I decided this approach would be more effective," he replies.

The normally-clothed man scowls and lifts his chin. "What makes you think you have the right to make that decision?"

The caped man blinks, his jaw clenching. He breathes for a moment, then says quietly, "Because I can kill you in the blink of an eye."

The caped man walks to the side of the stage and down the steps hidden in the corner, coming further into the room. After a moment's hesitation, the normally-clothed man follows him.

"Why do I get the feeling that this is going to turn out very differently than what you initially told me?" the normally-clothed man asks cautiously.

Peter sees the caped man smile, and when he turns it on the two cages, it makes a shiver run down Peter's spine.

xxxxxxx

Mikaela slams a hand against the dashboard of the jeep. "God fucking damnit," she mutters, furious.

Wade, now suited up as Deadpool, turns his head a little to look at her out of the corner of his eye - presumably. "Easy, Cupcake, you'll trigger the airbags."

"I can't _believe_ I let this happen. I knew there was a threat, and I _still_ let it happen. I'm the biggest fucking idiot out there. They've no idea how to deal with mutants!" she rants.

"How did he even get them? I thought they were supposed to be _superheroes_ ," Wade says, scoffing at the prospect.

"He caught them when they were least expecting a threat," Mikaela bites out, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter now. All that matters is he _has_ them and I need to get them _back_."

"Huh, _vague_ ," Wade comments. "As if _someone's_ trying to get out of a believable explanation."

"Oh my God, Wade, I have no idea who you're talking about," Mikaela snaps irritably. "Can you put a pause on your whole 'breaking the 4th wall', or whatever, for just a minute?"

Wade blows air out his lips noisily. "Someone's testy."

Mikaela closes her eyes, convincing herself it would be a bad idea to attack him.

"Why is it always an abandoned town we have to go to for your enemies?" Wade muses.

"Fuck knows," Mikaela mutters, opening her eyes again and slumping back in her seat.

"Do you have a plan of attack?"

Mikaela quirks an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, attack."

Wade lets out a theatrical laugh and slaps his thigh. "Oh, a call-back to a previous installment - I love call-backs."

Choosing to ignore him, Mikaela looks out the window. "I've contacted Xavier - he's sending the team out to help."

"Oh, really? I thought he'd figure it wasn't his business. But, I suppose, he does have a hard-on for Magneto."

Mikaela's face scrunches in a moment of confused amusement. But the distraction soon passes and she returns to her newly-adopted permanent scowl.

"Why else would he be so cut up about Magneto abandoning him?" Wade continues. "They're in _love_ , Cupcake."

"Pretty sure Magneto's been pumping Mystique for years, but okay."

Wade's head whips round to look at her. " _What_?" he exclaims, before bursting into laughter. " _Pumping_? What in the holy _shit_ does that mean?" he demands, his pitch rising significantly until he's almost screeching at her.

Mikaela scowls at him. "Shagging. Fucking. Whatever."

He laughs even louder. "That is god damn _ridiculous_!"

"When I get angry I revert back to Scottish!" she exclaims defensively.

He wipes at imaginary tears under the 'eyes' of his mask, his laughing dying down to chuckles. "That was so fantastic, thank you. I needed that," he sighs happily.

"You're welcome," Mikaela replies flatly, crossing her arms. She looks down into her lap, trailing her eyes over the edges of the gun Wade loaned her. All she can think about is aiming it at Magneto's head and pulling the trigger.

"How the fuck are we supposed to tackle Magneto?" she mumbles, rubbing her forehead.

"We could try the old 'drive through the building' trick again? It worked well last time."

Mikaela smirks bitterly. "Last time we were only fighting humans."

xxxxxxx

Peter finds it hard to look at the scarred man watching him. The man is relentless in his cruel smirking and his evil eyes. He chuckles darkly to himself every so often, as if his general demeanor isn't creepy enough as it is. The one staring at Mr Stark isn't much nicer, but that hasn't stopped Peter's mentor from making fun of him and trying to provoke him to open the cage and fight him.

Every time Mr Stark comes out with some insult, Peter winces and prays nothing will happen. He's come to realise that these people are mutants, and the prisoners have no idea what their guards can do. Mikaela had told them that mutants can cause destruction like they couldn't imagine, and Peter for one is intent on keeping that in mind.

One thing Peter doesn't understand is _why_ they're there. "Mr Stark, what do they want with us?" he asks quietly, averting his gaze from his guard's soulless eyes.

Mr Stark gives him a look. "Seriously? Kid, the one connection we have to this world is Mikaela."

Peter slumps. "Oh. Do you think she's in trouble?"

Mr Stark rolls his eyes. "Does it look like a celebration in her honour?" he retorts.

"What's the plan here?" the normally-clothed man asks loudly, catching their attention.

The caped man looks at him from a few rows of seats down. "She'll be here soon," he says calmly. "Then we'll talk."

The normally-clothed man frowns. "When do _I_ get to talk?"

The caped man turns away again. "When I let you."

"Who _are_ these people?" Peter hisses, confused by the interaction. "And what do they want with Mikaela?"

"I don't know," Mr Stark says, but he's looking at the normally-clothed man with such intensity that Peter wonders if that was a lie.

xxxxxxxx

Wade is singing at the top of his lungs. Mikaela is taking deep breaths, keeping her eyes closed.

They're only five minutes away now. She's keeping an eye on the mutants' jet too, and it's not far behind them.

"Hey, Cupcake, we need to make an entrance, otherwise there's no point doing this," Wade calls over the music.

"What do you mean?" she frowns.

She can see the grin under his mask. "We need a song. Something epic and totally fucking _awesome_."

Mikaela finds herself smirking, agreeing with him.

xxxxxx

The air is so tense in the theater Peter feels like he's suffocating. The normally-clothed man is acting very suspicious, hiding actions on a mobile phone from the other people in the room, while the caped man has begun pacing across the stage and back again. Mr Stark has stopped taunting his guard, thankfully, because there seemed to be no chance of provoking a fight.

"How are we gonna get out of this?" Peter asks him, leaning against the side of the bars closest to Mr Stark.

Mr Stark sits against the back of his own cage, eyes open and alert as they search the room. "I assume Mikaela's coming," he replies, "But whether she can get us out of here or not.."

Peter nods, swallowing. "Can we even fight these people?"

Mr Stark shrugs with a bitter smirk. "No idea, kid."

The guard in front of Peter chuckles darkly, and Peter takes that as a "no".

Suddenly a hallway at the opposite side of the theater lights up, and music starts playing from a room somewhere down there.

Mr Stark sits up. "Is that Toto?" he asks, bewildered.

As 'Africa' starts playing, Peter watches the mutants in the room shift uncomfortably, looking to the source of the music, and then at the caped man.

"Ignore it," their leader instructs. "She wants us to split up."

Anticipation has the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stand up. Mikaela is coming and, while he has yet to see her in real action, the thought comforts him.

"Okay, kid. If you get a chance, you run, you don't fight," Mr Stark mutters, having moved closer to Peter.

"What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you."

The chorus hits and gets a few beats in, and then a wall to their left explodes as a vehicle crashes through from the outside. Several mutants have to jump out of the way to avoid getting run over, until the vehicle slams into the rows of seats, hitting a particularly solid one apparently, as it comes to an abrupt halt. A red and black blur is launched through the windshield, screeching maniacally.

The music comes to a stop then as well. Peter coughs as the dust from the crash wafts over the cages, waving a hand to try and clear the air. He squints through it, trying to see what came out the windshield and what is left in the jeep.

The red and black thing coughs and groans loudly from amongst the rows of seats, lifting itself up. Peter realises it's a man in a costume, and he realises that the man has a multitude of broken parts.

"Cupcake?" the man rasps loudly, cracking his bones back into place.

The passenger door of the jeep is kicked open and Mikaela half jumps, half falls out onto the floor. Her foot slides out from under her, but she grabs onto the door and rights herself. As the dust clears, Peter sees that her nose is bleeding. He frowns in concern, edging closer to the front of his cage.

"Fuck sake, Wade," Mikaela mutters.

"Wade" just cackles in reply.

"You understand that this imbecile will be of no use to you against me?" the caped man calls from the stage, smirking.

Mikaela doesn't look at the caped man, but her jaw clenches and she reaches back into the destroyed jeep.

Peter's eyes widen in horror when she lifts out a big gun. He glances at Mr Stark, whose face has hardened so much it must hurt.

Mikaela walks around the and aims the gun at the caped man, who continues to smirk. Then she starts _shooting_ at the man. Peter winces and flinches every time a bullet is expelled, aghast.

But the bullets don't hit the man. He swatts them away from his chest and face like dust balls in the wind.

When Mikaela's gun runs out, she drops it to the ground, sighing with satisfaction.

"Really?" the caped man asks.

"I know. It just felt really fucking good to shoot at you," Mikaela shrugs.

"I thought you and I respected each other," the caped man reprimands.

Mikaela rolls her eyes, her fists clenching. "You stole from me. Give it back," she says, changing the subject.

"I'm trying to help you _understand_ ," the caped man says. "They are _weak_ and _inferior_ and they prey upon our species as if _they_ are the higher power."

"Take the hint, Gandalf, _fuck_ ," Wade comments.

"Listen, we've been over this," Mikaela says slowly, as if talking to an elderly man whose mind isn't what it used to be. "You're an asshole and I don't think you're right so, no, I won't be joining your cult. Now, give me back my friends."

"You are _so_ close to seeing the truth," the caped man says, an evil glint in his eyes. "You just need a little reminder."

"Reminder?" Mikaela frowns.

The caped man nods to the side of the stage, and the normally clothed man walks out. In the cage next to Peter's, Mr Stark shuffles closer to the front of his cage, visibly tense and watching the scene with an unwavering gaze. Peter moves his attention back to Mikaela, who stares at the man with a blank expression - however, he does notice her hands shake and her jawbone press against the skin of her cheek.

Peter frowns at the scene, wondering who this plain-looking man is.

xxxxxxx

Mikaela's developed tunnel vision, and at the centre stands the one person she promised herself she was rid of forever. His face is more wrinkled and slack than she remembers, his hair thinner and more grey, his body fatter and slower. But those eyes are still the cold, calculating, resentful eyes that she last saw all those years ago, in another life. He stares at her the same way he used to - like she's just a tool that he can profit off of.

Years' worth of forgotten hatred and anger threatens to consume her, setting her fingers to shaking and her jaw to clenching so hard she thinks she might shatter her teeth. But she knows she needs to retain a somewhat-cool head if she's going to get herself and everyone she cares about out of this alive.

"Great," she manages to bite out, "Now you're here too."

His smirk is dry and bitter. "It's good to see you too, Carolyn." His accent is warped and foreign now, half Scottish, half American.

Mikaela's face crinkles at the name. "That's not who I am anymore."

"You can't run from-" her father begins, before he is cut off.

"Yes, well, I thought you would like to know why your father is here," Magneto says loudly, clearly impatient to move their conversation on.

Mikaela happily diverts her gaze away from the man who helped create her. "I don't care," she replies, shrugging. "I'm just here for my friends."

She can see Wade in the corner of her eye, shifting impatiently, his fingers twitching. Deciding he needs some attention, Mikaela surveys the room and several of its inhabitants, finding their faces in online videos that expose their mutations. She relays the information to Wade in his earpiece while Magneto starts talking again.

"Your father was easily convinced to come here," the mutant continues, ignoring Mikaela's reply. Her father frowns at Magneto, appearing confused by the progression of the interaction. "All I did was offer to help him find his daughter. Of course, he only wanted to find you so he could finish what he started when you both first moved to America."

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "Is this supposed to shock me?"

Magneto's face hardens. "Your father is a prime example of why I am right about humans. He had no interest in how you were - he just wanted help in convincing you to go with him."

"Sure," Mikaela allows, nodding. "But these two are prime examples of why you're wrong about humans." She gestures to the cages against the right wall, stopping herself from looking over - she doesn't think she could control the rage that would overwhelm her at the sight.

"They will turn against you. It is inevitable. You have power beyond their imagining, so don't _waste_ it helping them!"

"Carolyn-" her father tries.

"You," she barks out, pointing at the disgrace of a man, "Shut up. And you," she continues, pointing at Magneto, "Also shut up. I have _literally_ no fucking interest in joining either of you so just give me back my fucking friends."

"You think I will just _let_ you go?" Magneto glares at her. "You could be immeasurably helpful to our cause if only you would prioritise the survival of your race!"

Mikaela smirks when she feels the inbound back-up. "I knew you wouldn't really take _me_ seriously, but I thought maybe you'd listen to someone else."

"Who?"

"Erik," one of his minions says, with a blank expression. The way he's speaking immediately makes Magneto scowl in anger. "Give up this pointless task, and let your prisoners go. You will only make things worse if you continue down this path."

"You ran to your precious Professor for help?" Magneto sneers at Mikaela.

The noise of the jet can be heard from inside the building at it lands on the ground. The mutants in the room look at each other frantically, clearly not having anticipated this. A couple actually scurry off down the dark hallways.

"I'm not an idiot, I knew I couldn't take you on alone," Mikaela retorts.

"Mikaela will never join you, Erik. Let it go, and let _them_ go," Xavier continues through the mutant he's controlling.

"Move in," Mikaela's father says into his phone, a determined expression on his face.

Mikaela gapes at him. " _Please_ tell me you've not got your own idiots following you?"

He smirks bitterly. "Believe it or not, I managed to make something of myself without you." He starts to descend the stairs towards her, spreading his hands out in a peaceful image, ignoring the chaos starting to erupt around them. "You enjoyed the criminal life before, Carolyn. You _thrived_ in that life. What purpose do you have now?"

Mikaela meets Wade's gaze after his incessant calling of her name, giving him a frustrated expression. "What, Wade?"

"Can I do my stabby-stab thing now?" he whines impatiently.

She looks at the mutants scrambling around the room, checking the progression of the X-Men into the building. "Sure, yeah, knock yourself out," she waves her hand dismissively. Quickly, she calls out, "Wait, not literally!" Wade just laughs and jumps into the fray.

Mikaela reluctantly returns her attention to her approaching father.

"I've heard all about your stint with that Diez guy," he continues. "Sounds like you really found your calling."

Mikaela cocks her head at him. "You heard how that relationship ended?"

His hands drop to his side. "Yes, but I think I know why. He didn't _challenge_ you. You were stuck doing tasks that were simply below you. You need someone who _knows_ you and your capabilities, someone with an ambition to match your talents."

Mikaela's eyebrows lift. "When did you start articulating yourself so well?"

"I've changed since you left, Carolyn," he replies, a glint in his eyes. "You and I could bring down countries together."

Mikaela pretends to think about it. "As _fantastic_ as it sounds to reunite with my dirtbag dad," she says, "I think I'll pass."

"You might not have a choice."

At his words, about thirty men run into the room from various entrances.

Mikaela suddenly realises she lost track of the situation around her at some point, and notices Wade slashing his way through mutants, Logan doing the same thing but sending the mercenary scornful looks every so often. Storm is in the air in one corner of the room, zapping lightening at people. Scott has moved to Tony and Peter's cages and is guarding them from any mutants who want to turn on them.

Magneto, to her utter distaste, has disappeared without her managing to hurt him in some way.

When Wade sees the men running in, he shouts, "Yes! _Now_ it's a party!"

"X-Men!" Mikaela calls over the noise, infiltrating their earpieces. "You concentrate on the mutants, Wade and I will get the humans!"

"Oh my _god_ , that is just _disgusting_! Are you _proud_ of yourself? Are you _proud_ of that hideous thing you just did?" Wade shouts from somewhere amongst a cluster of mutants.

With a reluctant growl, Logan throws himself into their midst as well. "Get to the humans, asshole!" Mikaela hears him bark.

Mikaela looks back to her father. "You going to kidnap me, Archie?"

He gives her a look. "Are you going to make me?"

Grinning, she reaches into the waistband at the back of her jeans and pulls out the handgun Wade lended her. She lets it sit against her hip and clicks the safety off.

xxxxxxxxx

Peter can hardly keep track of the situation from his cage. His view of Mikaela has been obscured for more time than he likes, but he strives to concentrate on finding her - that way he can avoid seeing all the gore and bloodshed. He can't believe the brutality unfurling around him, and wishes desperately he was in his apartment watching a film with May.

He can hardly understand what's going on with the mass of bodies and the multiple mutations in action. Mr Stark appears to be similarly confused in the cage next to him, the man gripping a bar in his right hand, crouched as if ready to spring into action. In front of their cages, a costumed mutant stands, blasting anyone who comes near with a red laser that comes out of the metal band across his eyes. He had told them he was a friend of Mikaela's and that he would look after them, and Peter was immensely grateful that he was on their side.

Through the throng of bodies, Peter suddenly gets a glimpse of Mikaela. She stands opposite the man they've presumed to be her father. While it's a fleeting glance, Peter notices the handgun she has held at her side, and his heart picks up its pace, hammering even harder and louder than it has been already.

"Mr Stark, she has another gun," he says, distressed.

"Yeah," Mr Stark agrees tensely.

Their mutant defender pauses in his blasting. Then he turns to look down at them. "The mutants are trying to escape. We need to catch them. Mikaela said she and the mercenary are going to take care of the humans. You'll be safe in here." And, with that, he runs off. Shortly after, a woman with a white mohawk runs past too.

The bodies in the room thin out as the mutants disperse, fleeing from the scene. The humans have knives and guns and are shooting at the mercenary, Wade, who is sometimes ecstatic, sometimes enraged, but always cutting or shooting right back at them. Mikaela has rotated so that she stands with her back to the cages, between them and her father.

"You think you can shoot me, Carolyn?" her father asks loudly.

Mikaela shrugs a shoulder. "I think I can give it a decent bash," she replies nonchalantly.

Peter's forehead flares with pain as his eyebrows furrow fiercely. He knows Mikaela is more violent than he is, but _shooting_ someone? And her father, at that?

"Nobody else needs to get hurt," her father says. "Your friends can go free. Just say you'll come with me."

"What makes you think I want to go back to that life?"

"Because you have no purpose now, Carolyn. You just float between your friends aimlessly until one of them gets in trouble. Don't you miss _causing_ trouble?"

Peter glances at Mr Stark when Mikaela hesitates, beginning to panic.

"Okay, yes, I miss doing illegal things," Mikaela nods grudgingly, "and being a goody-goody isn't as fun. _But_ , I have made real connections with good people, and I know that they are worth more than a lifetime of a morbid enjoyment of criminality."

Her father rolls his eyes. "But they don't-"

"Actually, they _do_ understand me, they _do_ understand my potential, and the trouble they get themselves into _does_ challenge me," Mikaela snaps. "Give it a fucking _rest_ , Archie, would you? You're talking about getting me back to a life that would just mean I was under someone's control again."

"It would be different this time, you insufferable brat," her father snarls. "I'm offering you the chance to work _with_ me."

"And I'm telling you to shove that offer up your shitter and _fuck off_!" Mikaela shouts, swinging the gun into the air.

Out of nowhere, four men rush her. They knock the gun out of her hand and cluster round her, blocking Peter's view of her. Mr Stark's free hand flies to another bar and he desperately pulls and pushes on them, attempting to shoogle them loose. Peter is frozen to the spot, his wide eyes frantically searching for a glimpse of Mikaela.

The lights on the ceiling intensify and brighten so much Peter has to look at the floor, and then they pop and shatter loudly, scattering shards of glass across the room.

One of the men attacking Mikaela shouts in pain and backs off, clutching at a shard that dropped into the space between his shoulder and neck.

Mikaela takes the chance and follows after him, slamming her fist into the top of the shard so it lodges itself in even further. Then she punches the man in the nose, breaking it, and once more in the throat. He falls to the ground, clutching at his throat as he chokes, and Mikaela turns away from him.

She blocks another man as he goes at her with a knife, grabbing his arm and twisting it until he drops the knife in her hand. She flips the knife and jams it back towards him, stabbing him in the chest. Peter can't bare to see her be so brutal, but he also can't look away in fear of her getting hurt.

One of the men has circled around behind her, his eyes flicking between the first two men she downed. He seems apprehensive and reluctant, and then he meets eyes with Peter, and he smirks.

Peter backs away from the front of the cage, subconsciously moving closer to Mr Stark's cage next to him, as the evil man saunters towards them.

He crouches down in front of the cage and lifts a gun, pointing it at Peter.

"Back off," Mr Stark growls.

Peter takes a shuddering breath and clenches his jaw shut, tears burning his eyes.

"Hey, kiddo," the man sneers. "What's your name?"

"Peter," Peter breathes shakily.

The man gestures the gun at him impatiently.

"Parker. Peter Parker," Peter rushes.

The man cocks his head. "And why are you here?"

"I'm friends with her."

He grins. "How do you know her?"

Peter's too scared to even look at Mr Stark. He tries to swallow, but his throat has gone dry. "I'm Spider-Man," he whispers, terrified.

The man laughs out loud. "You sure about that?"

"Back off," Mr Stark repeats, louder.

The man turns his gun on Mr Stark. Peter's throat tightens. The man opens his mouth to say something, but Mikaela shouts over the top of him.

"Leave them alone, you big prick," she calls, clearly trying to provoke him.

He stands and turns to face her, but keeps his gun pointed at Mr Stark. "You got a soft spot?" he taunts.

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "Yes, congratulations, you're the one-millionth person to realise."

"You don't like me threatening their lives?"

"Not especially," she grunts. Her empty hands clench, but Peter is glad she hasn't got a gun.

"Okay," the man nods. "Maybe I won't kill them."

Peter relaxes, but Mikaela's eyes narrow suspiciously, and it makes him pause.

"I can just name-drop Peter Parker in a couple precincts, maybe some news-" the man is saying, until Mikaela reacts.

She moves so fast Peter almost doesn't see it. When the shot rings out and the man falls to the floor with a bullet wound in his stomach, it becomes clear that Mikaela _did_ still have a gun. It was just hidden in the back of her jeans.

Peter flinches at the noise and stares in horror at the crumpled man, groaning and muttering nonsense.

Mikaela stalks towards his prone figure, her face a blaze of anger - an anger Peter has never before seen the likes of. She kicks the man's gun away from his reaching hand and glares down at him with utter loathing and disgust. Then she aims the gun again.

"Mikaela, don't!" Peter shouts, throwing a hand up in an attempt to stop her.

Mikaela looks at him with angry confusion. "Did you not hear him?" she demands.

He grasps the bars and pulls himself closer, gazing up at her desperately. "Please don't kill him, please don't," he mumbles, his eyes stinging with tears again.

She shifts uncomfortably, her jaw clenching. "He _threatened_ you, Pete," she says quietly. He can hear the emotion in her voice, how much it pains her that the man would do such a thing.

"Aw, look at _you_ with all your morals intact," a voice cooes from behind Mikaela.

A quick glance reveals Wade standing behind her, covered in blood and gore and severe wounds, his hands on his knees, head cocked to the side, the white eyes of his mask staring blankly at Peter.

"He is _adorable_ , Cupcake. I want him," Wade continues.

"Shut up, Wade," she mutters distractedly.

He stands up straight and crosses his arms. "Okay, _grumpy_. We're done here. Your shitbag dad ran away with a few of his guys. There's only this asshole left."

"I have to kill him, Pete," Mikaela says, having never taken her eyes off Peter.

"You don't," Peter pleads, a tear slipping onto his cheek. "You don't."

The man coughs out a laugh. "Get on with it, you bitch, or I really will tell everyone his name is-"

Peter turns his head away and squeezes his eyes shut when the second shot rings out. It is explosively loud right in front of him, and it echoes in his head for a minute after.

Letting out a shaky breath, Peter feels his heart break and another tear fall. He can't bring himself to open his eyes and look anywhere around him.

He feels as though he's trapped in a terrible, horrific nightmare, and Mikaela is the thing he wants to run from - a person he thought he knew, but whose very core has turned degenerate right before his eyes.

xxxxxxx

Mikaela feels numb. She feels numb and bitter and cold.

Peter stands at the side of the room next to Tony, who appears concerned for the kid. While Tony hadn't actually _said_ anything to her upon being released from his cage, he _did_ squeeze her shoulder in a comforting manner. Peter, on the other hand, refused to look at her or the man she killed, his face pale and distraught.

She stares over at him, her arms crossed, her hands clutching herself. She bites at the inside of her lips and cheeks, ignoring the pain. She knows Peter has been blissfully unaware of her previous dabble in killing, but she hadn't expected him to react like this. He knows that Tony has killed before, and will likely kill again, and yet he huddles close to _him_ like a frightened puppy to a braver dog.

"Yo, Cupcake," Wade calls, shoving her shoulder so hard she stumbles a little, uncrossing her arms to balance herself on Logan.

"Fuck off," she mutters quietly, scowling at the floor.

"Don't," Logan growls warningly, pointing a finger at the mercenary before he attacks Mikaela.

Wade groans dramatically and throws his hands in the air. "Can't even hit your friends anymore," he huffs.

"Mikaela," Storm says gently. "Did you hear anything we just said?"

Mikaela rubs at her forehead, sighing. "No. Sorry."

She feels the woman's soft touch on her shoulder and looks up into her kind eyes. "He'll come round," Storm says with an empathetic smile.

Mikaela chuckles bitterly. "I doubt it. What were you saying?"

Storm frowns but leaves the matter alone. "Wade says your father got away. Do you think he's a threat?"

Mikaela shakes her head. "Not to you guys," she replies, trying hard not to look at Peter again.

"Sounds like there's a 'but' in there," Logan grunts.

Mikaela shrugs. "He might try with me again, I don't know."

"Can you handle him?" Logan asks.

"Yeah, he's only human," she says.

Storm sighs, looking around the room. Scott follows her line of sight and crosses his arms.

"There are a lot of bodies in here," he says.

"If you're that bothered, we can burn it down," Wade mumbles, inspecting his gloved fingertips.

"It _is_ abandoned," Mikaela agrees.

Wade huffs again and looks away from her.

Mikaela deflates, exhausted. "Wade, I'm sorry. I can't handle having you mad at me too."

He cocks his head at her. Then he shoves Logan out the way and comes to stand next to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "He's not mad at you, Cupcake," Wade begins in a comforting tone. "He just can't stand the sight of you because you're not who he thought you were, that's all."

Mikaela lifts her head - a task that feels enormous - and looks across at Peter again with heavy, tired eyes. Tony stands with a hand on one of Peter's shoulders, looking down at the floor. Peter stares blankly into the distance, an image of disillusion.

Mikaela doesn't feel guilty. She doesn't regret what she did.

She just hates that she might have lost someone more important to her than she can comprehend.


	21. Heartbreak

**Chapter Twenty-One - Heartbreak**

 **AUTHORS NOTE: Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter! Just to clear some things up, I know Peter would probably have been able to get out the cage and fight his way out, and Tony wouldn't have done bad either, but the reason I didn't have them do anything like that is because they respect mutants and the difference of mutant business and human business. They didn't want to attack mutants because of how humans have been assholes to mutants for decades, and they didn't want to upset Mikaela in any way. This is probably stuff I should have written in to explain it, so I apologise for that! I hope you understand my reasons and you haven't been taken out of the story or anything because of this. Sorry as well for taking so long to update - I had a short lapse in faith after someone left a review detailing why they pretty aggressively dislike Mikaela. I understand completely that some people just don't like some characters and that's totally fine, but this person also used unnecessary insults like "butthead" and "awful twerp" (lmao) more than constructive criticism - PLUS they said Mikaela would be a part of Hydra before she would make friends with an Avenger and I have to disagree massively with that at least. Mikaela is nowhere near joining Hydra and I think I'll take offense to that part of the review!**

 **In other news, I've been wondering, how do you guys visualize Mikaela? I've purposefully not described her in too much detail so that it's left open to your imagination, so I'm curious to know what you've come up with? Personally, I adore Zendaya and if her MJ were in my version of the MCU I would be shipping her and Peter like mad, so my solution is to kind of put her in Mikaela's spot..**

"I don't know what way you're feeling, but it looks to me like your heart just isn't in it," Wade comments thoughtfully.

Mikaela grits her teeth. The knuckles on her right hand sting where they're split and bleeding. The fingers on her left hand are clenching a woman's scarf, holding her upright. Mikaela shifts her weight, eyes wandering over the woman's bloody, swollen face. After a moment, she loosens her fingers and lets the woman drop to the ground at her feet.

Mikaela sighs and cracks her neck. "I thought this would help."

"Me too," Wade says, coming to stand next to her. He sighs regretfully, then lifts his gun and shoots the woman between the eyes.

Without a word, they both turn and exit the building, heading out towards the van they arrived in.

When Mikaela pulls herself into the seat and straps herself in, she drops her head back against the rest and closes her eyes, holding back another sigh - it's all she's been doing recently.

Wade slams the driver door closed and turns the engine on, pulling out into the road. He clicks the radio on after a moment and keeps it at a reasonable level, which is unlike him.

"Listen, Cupcake," he begins.

"No, it's okay," she interrupts, opening her eyes as she waves a dismissive hand. "You don't need to have one of your 'out of character' moments."

"You sure? She's all primed and ready," he persists, referring to the mysterious "author" he mentions from time to time.

Mikaela rolls her head to the side to look out the window. "I've talked about it enough. I understand what's going through his head. I know I can't do anything to change it. I know I have to give him time and space."

"Maybe a night on the town would distract you," he suggests.

"And by that, you mean be served by your creepy friend and sit in that dirty place all night?"

"Yeah," he chirps.

Mikaela lets a sigh slip by accident. "Sure, whatever."

xxxxxxx

Mikaela's bum hurts.

She frowns. Then she realises her eyes are closed.

Opening them, she sees she is sitting against a wall on one of the streets of New York. Even sitting down she feels massively unsteady, especially with the buildings around her pulsing and swaying.

"Stupid," she slurs, attempting to push herself to her feet.

She has to press the majority of her body against the wall and shoogle it up the rough brick, a hand stretched above her, her fingertips clutching at the top of a brick. Eventually, she has no more limbs to stretch out, so she knows she's at her full height.

She first moves her hip away from the wall, then her shoulder, but she keeps her hand pressed against the brick for support. She sways a little, but rolls with it and manages to slow herself down to a standstill again.

Looking down, she stretches a foot out in front of her and slaps it down against the pavement. She tests her footing, then pushes against the brick a little, and leans her weight on the forward foot. Almost too late, she remembers her other foot and swings it forward too, catching herself before she stumbles.

Smirking to herself, she repeats the process, retaining her hand on the wall next to her for support. Even though she doesn't have much mental space left, due to the immense concentration taken by her movements, she finds her thoughts wandering to the one thing Wade had been trying to distract her from.

Briefly, she glances around for signs of Wade, but the motion makes her vision swim, so she quickly forgets it.

"Peter Parker," she mutters, grumpy.

She hasn't seen him since the whole _incident_ , not for lack of trying on her part. He refuses to see her. Claims he needs time.

"Time," she scoffs.

He thinks she's somehow not the same person as she was before. He thinks she's a stranger. As if they haven't bonded over the past however-long they've known each other. He thinks she's _different_.

But she isn't different. She's Mikaela, for fuck sake!

"I _am_ Mikaela!" she snaps, reassuring herself.

She's killed before. It's not her fault he didn't realise. Plus, it's not as if she killed again for no reason.

She pouts as she walks, scowling.

She killed because he was in danger - didn't he _see_ that? She killed because he was at risk, because his life was at risk, because his aunt was at risk.

She killed because she _cares_ about him. So much it scares her. And the thought of not having him in her life anymore-

"Fuck that," she mutters, blowing air through her lips to make a "pfff" sound.

Suddenly, the brick under Mikaela's hand disappears.

She freezes, throwing her hands out to her sides and crouching slightly, eyes wide and panicked.

"Where'd it go?" she hisses, glancing around at the ground.

She looks at her hand, inspecting it, wondering if she did something to the wall.

Slowly, she straightens, and then she looks up.

"Oh," she snorts.

She's at an intersection.

With exaggerated movements, she looks left and right before she starts to cross the road. She holds her arms out to her sides still, straight as arrows, to keep her balanced as she moves along the white line.

When she makes it to the other side, she smirks to herself. "Back at it again," she slurs, finger-gunning the wall.

She wants to see Peter.

She scowls, remembering she can't. "Stupid," she mutters.

She walks to the wall and presses her hand against it again, somewhere in her mind doubting she'll manage to keep walking on her own.

"Oh, I'm Peter," she sneers, "I'm really nice and sweet and funny and I don't _like_ it when people are deaded in front of me."

She snorts, chuckling at herself and her _totally_ accurate impersonation.

He's just stupid. And cute.

He's too innocent for this life.

Mikaela stops and stands up straight. "I will never let him kill anyone," she announces, decided.

Now that her head is lifted again, she sees the lights of Avengers Tower in the distance. Or is it on the next block? She isn't sure.

With renewed determination, she stares down at her feet and tiptoes along the pavement, convinced it'll make her move faster.

She wants to see Tony now. Peter is no use to her like this. With Tony, she can be open and vulnerable-

Mikaela's face scrunches at the thought - she's done enough vulnerability to last a lifetime. She just wants to see her friend-more-like-father-figure and have a nice time. Maybe she can see Pepper too.

When she next lifts her head, Mikaela finds herself mere steps away from the glass doors of the Tower. She feels so triumphant it boosts her confidence through the roof, and she goes as far as taking her hand off the wall next to her. With her hands clenched into determined fists, she lifts her chin and purposefully marches towards the door.

Pain erupts on her face and her hands fly up to clutch at it, a yelp escaping her mouth. She stumbles, losing her balance, and plonks down on her arse heavily.

One hand goes to rub her backside while the other cradles her nose. She frowns in confusion, completely at a loss as to what just happened. Then she looks up at the glass, and her vision stops swimming long enough to make out a Mikaela's-face-shaped smudge on the glass.

As realisation dawns on her, a cackle bursts forth from her throat, and she slaps her thigh.

The fit of amusement passes not long after, and she manages to push herself back onto her feet - though she does have to use her hands and feet for a few steps before that like a drunken dog.

She stops herself before she hits the glass this time, and realises the doors are locked. Mikaela slaps a hand against one and leans on it heavily.

"Open sesame!" she hiccups.

The door slides away from underneath her, and she stumbles into the building.

She frowns at the empty space, struggling to see. Then, across the room, there is a _bing_ , and the elevator doors slide open, sending a bright light sprawling across the floor.

Tony emerges, wearing pyjamas and slippers. "How much have you drank this time?" he asks, not amused or disappointed or even curious. It's just a question.

Mikaela smiles lopsidedly. "I don't think _I'm_ the one who should be getting asked that," she slurs, gesturing at his clothes. "What are you _wearing_? And _why_?"

He stops and looks down at himself, a defensive expression overcoming his face. "They're clothes people wear before they go to sleep. I'm wearing them because I'll be going to sleep soon."

Mikaela makes a face at him, convinced he's playing a trick on her. "It's not time to _sleep_ ," she mutters, waving a dismissive hand. She stumbles a step forward, and crouches slightly to ground herself more.

Tony holds back amusement as he crosses his arms. "Kid," he sighs. "It is 3:20 am. And you look like you're about to drop a shit in my lobby."

Mikaela scowls, bewildered. Then she looks around, and realises just how _dark_ it is.

"Oh," she says. "I was wondering why I didn't get run over."

That's when Tony makes a disappointed face. His slippers make soft slapping sounds as he makes his way closer to her. Then he takes a hold of her upper arm, pulling her up straight again, and leads her towards the elevator.

"Have you ever noticed how much the Earth spins?" Mikaela asks curiously.

"Mhmm, yeah," he nods.

Mikaela grins and pokes his chest. "Nerd."

He steps into the elevator first, his arm extending behind him as she hesitates. Then she pushes her hands against the edges of the retracted doors, making sure they won't close on her, and takes a huge step over the edge of the elevator.

He takes both her arms, rolling his eyes at her, and leans her against the back corner of the metal box. As soon as he releases his hold, Mikaela lets herself slide down to her hunkers.

Suddenly she gasps. "Friday!" she shouts.

"Yes, Mikaela?" the Irish voice asks.

Mikaela grins. "Hello."

"Hello, Mikaela."

She looks to Tony with the same stupid smile, and sees him pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. "You're the dog's bollocks," she announces.

His hand slowly moves away from his nose and he looks down at her incredulously. " _Excuse_ me?"

She frowns. "It's a compliment."

" _How_?"

Mikaela shrugs. "I don't know," she mumbles.

"If you start talking nonsense-"

"Stop suffocating my culture!" she huffs, pouting.

He stares at her, then shrugs and picks her back up again. "Fair enough."

When she looks around, she realises the doors are open again. Tony drags her out before she can do her careful exit.

When Mikaela sees Pepper, she breaks out into a huge grin. "Pepper!"

Pepper smiles fondly. "Hey, sweetie."

Mikaela breaks free of Tony and half-skips-half-stumbles her way over to the redhead. She plonks herself down next to the woman, kicks off her shoes, and curls her legs up underneath her.

"What do you wanna talk about?" Mikaela asks, leaning her chin in her hand, her elbow balancing on her knee.

Pepper gives Tony a look. "Man, you have had a _lot_ to drink tonight, haven't you?" the woman asks Mikaela.

Mikaela nods proudly. "Yup. I think so."

"It's not like you to get this bad," Tony comments, sitting opposite them.

Mikaela's so fuzzy she doesn't even know what room they're in. She stands up and stumbles around, trying to solve the puzzle.

"If you want to forget, you drink," she mutters.

"So, you were distracting yourself," Pepper says.

"Well, beating up the bad lady didn't help, so we had to try something else."

It's quiet for a moment, then Tony asks, "So nothing from Pete yet?"

Mikaela scowls and kicks at the floor. "Stupid," she grumbles.

"You know, Mikaela-"

"I can't be _arsed_ talking about it anymore," Mikaela groans. She turns to face them again. She is angry and frustrated, and for some reason it makes her bottom lip quiver. "I just miss him."

Pepper's face contorts in empathy. "Come here," she says gently, opening her arms.

Mikaela trudges back towards her and collapses into the cushions again, leaning into Pepper's embrace. The woman snakes one arm around Mikaela's shoulders and holds onto her upper arm, while the other pets her hair.

Mikaela sniffs, exhausted and _drained_. Her face feels warm and wet and her breathing is unsteady, and she realises she is _really_ crying - not just letting a few tears slip; her face is contorted, her eyes squeezed shut, her fingers clutching at Pepper. The woman whispers words of comfort as she runs her hand over Mikaela's hair, and then a third, larger hand appears on Mikaela's back, rubbing in circles.

"If it was anyone else who hurt you, I'd kill them," Tony's voice says above her. "But Peter…"

Mikaela calms herself enough to say, "I know. I couldn't hurt him either."

xxxxxxxxx

Peter's legs dangle off the edge of the roof, one of his heels knocking against the wall. He holds his mask in his hands, staring down at the white eyes. He feels profoundly lonely and miserable, and he isn't sure what to do about it.

With a sniff, he lifts his gaze to the setting sun. It's been an uneventful night for him, with only a petty bike theft to keep him distracted. For once, he wishes there were more criminals running around the place.

Peter winces and groans, falling back onto the roof. He doesn't _really_ wish that. That would be terrible.

He just wants something _else_ to occupy his mind other than the utter confusion surrounding his thoughts of Mikaela.

While he still isn't sure what he thinks of her being fine with killing people, and what that means about who she is, he _does_ know for sure that, annoyingly, he misses her. But all that that knowledge is doing is confusing matters even further.

Peter gets to his feet again and pulls his mask over his head, sighing with relief as his senses are focused once more. Looking in the direction of home, he sprints across the rooftop and throws himself off the edge of the building, letting himself fall through the air for a moment before he throws his hand out and shoots out a web.

He grips the material hard as it connects with another building, swinging his legs forward for extra momentum. He soars through the air, mere metres above the traffic on the road, and reaches the top of his swing. He lets go of the web and sends his other hand into the air to shoot another.

Swing by swing, he makes his way towards his home. An alley nearby holds his backpack and civilian clothes, which he quickly pulls on before Aunt May sees him. The look of pride mingled with utter fear on her face whenever she catches sight of him as Spider-Man is too much for him.

When he walks in the door, she sends him a smile from the couch and gestures to the kitchen. "There's a plate in the oven for you," she says.

Peter quirks an eyebrow. "You cooked?"

May gives him an offended look. "Hey, I put my heart and soul into this meal, thank you very much."

Peter opens the oven door to find a plate of pizza awaiting him. He sends May an amused grin and she gives him a wink.

When he plonks down next to her and she gets back into her programme, his mind wanders. It's impossible to avoid thinking about Mikaela, but he can't help feeling frustrated. He can barely concentrate on school at the moment, and Ned keeps having to repeat whatever he was saying before Peter realised he hadn't heard a single word of it.

"Pete?" May asks.

Peter blinks and realises he's been sitting with a slice of pizza in front of his face for too long to not be suspicious.

"Oh," he smiles sheepishly.

"Okay," May says purposefully. She takes the slice from his hand, drops it on the plate, and puts the plate on the floor.

"Hey," he protests.

"What's going on?" she demands, crossing her arms and pinning him to the spot with her concerned gaze. "Your head has been miles away ever since…" she trails off, scowling.

Peter sighs, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, May."

"I'm not looking for an apology, Peter," she says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

He falls back against the couch and runs his hand over his face. "I just.." he tries. "I don't know. It's hard to explain."

"Just take your time," May shrugs.

Peter winces. He doesn't know if telling May will be a good idea. But he desperately needs someone to talk about it with, and Ned doesn't really grasp the severity of the situation.

"Okay, so. When Mr Stark and I were being held in those cages, Mikaela's dad was there and he was trying to recruit her to his criminal life," Peter begins.

May leans an elbow on the top of the couch and holds the side of her head in her hand, listening intently. He can see her discomfort, mostly about the context, but also somewhat about Mikaela's family.

"He brought these guys with him, like thirty guys, and they were fighting everyone as well," Peter continues. He scratches at the nape of his neck uncomfortably. "Mikaela was fighting off some of them when one of the guys came over to our cages."

May frowns, having not heard this part.

"Basically he threatened to expose me to the media and police," Peter sighs, reluctant to continue. He rubs at his forehead and frowns, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

"Peter?" May asks gently.

He looks up at her again and shrugs. "Mikaela shot him. I tried to stop her from," he hesitates, a bad taste in his mouth, "From killing him. I tried, May."

"It's okay," she murmurs, frowning as she rubs his shoulder.

Peter swallows, a lump forming in his throat. "She _killed_ him. Mikaela _killed_ someone." He takes a few shaky breaths. "I don't think it was the first time," he whispers.

May sits silently, her eyes dropping to somewhere behind Peter. Her eyebrows are furrowed gently, her jaw moving as she chews on the inside of her cheek. Peter knows she's processing the information, and part of him sincerely hopes she doesn't hate Mikaela or think badly of her.

"Okay," she says finally in a quiet tone. "Mikaela knew this guy wanted to expose you," she summarises, "And presumably thought that killing him was the best solution?"

Peter nods. "She didn't think there was any other way."

May takes a deep breath and sits back in the seat. "I don't approve of killing," she says, the pain of their shared loss on her face. "I think it is a _horrible_ thing to do to a person - deciding whether they'll continue breathing or not. I don't think people have the right to make that decision."

Peter agrees wholeheartedly, but he is worried that she is going to condemn Mikaela for what she did.

May looks at Peter again then, a mass of emotion in her eyes. "I would hate for you to have someone's death on your conscience. But if you ever had to, because you thought there was no other way, I would understand," she says, slow and deliberate.

Peter frowns a little, wondering where she's going.

May rubs the back of her neck. "Mikaela told me that she would protect you for as long as you were out doing this," she reveals, doing nothing to ease Peter's confusion. "If she thought this was the best way," she trails off, shrugging.

Peter stares at her. "You condone it?" he asks incredulously.

May winces. "Maybe not her methods, but her intentions, yes. I trust her to look out for you."

Peter threads his fingers into the hair at the crown of his head and clentches hard. He scowls at the couch, utterly lost.

"You're having trouble coming to terms with what she did?" May asks rhetorically. "Is it because she did it _for_ you? Do you feel guilty?"

Peter doesn't move from his position, nor does he look at her. "No. She's her own person. It's not my fault that man's dead."

"So you think it's her fault?"

Peter winces, uncertain.

"Okay. What way do you feel when I say I'm glad she stopped the threat to you?"

Peter carefully observes his emotions. "I'm kind of.. confused?" he stutters.

May nods in the corner of his eye. "Alright. Then I think she's an awful human being and I don't want you to see her ever again."

Peter's fingers loosen so that his head can snap up, a sense of defensiveness overwhelming him. He opens his mouth to protest against May's condemnation, feeling protective, indignant, and above all else the _urge_ to convince May otherwise.

But then he realises she doesn't actually believe it, and his arguments die on his tongue.

His face relaxes in surprise.

May smiles wryly. "Pete, I think it's clear that you're making this more complicated than it needs to be. Mikaela means a lot to you, and nothing she does will change that, because Mikaela's not an awful person. You don't need to like what she did, you need to be grateful that you've got someone watching your back who's willing to take on that responsibility in order to protect you. She obviously cares about you a lot as well - she seems like the kind of person who would just have ignored the threat and moved on unless she cared."

Despite himself, Peter smiles in amusement, nodding. "I guess I just realised she isn't who I thought she was."

May gives him a look. "Do you _really_ believe that?"

Peter frowns and retreats into himself to ponder the question. It's what he's been using as a reason for his confusion about his feelings towards Mikaela, but maybe May is right.. maybe that didn't actually bother him.

He knows that Mikaela is strong and resilient, that she wouldn't do anything she didn't want to unless she deep down actually did. He knows that it takes her a while to make her mind up about people, but once she does she cares deeply for them and will do anything to protect them. He knows that she risked her own life to save Rhodes so that Mr Stark wouldn't be hurt, and he knows that she killed someone so that Peter wouldn't get hurt - and probably, now that he thinks about it, so that May wouldn't be hurt either. He knows that she watches over him, even though no one told her to keep doing so, and he knows that she puts herself in uncomfortable emotional situations in order to help those she cares about.

He knows that she is unlike anyone he has ever known before. He knows that he has come to see her as a close friend he can always rely on. He knows that she is a big part of his life that he can't just turn away from. He knows he really doesn't _want_ to turn away from her. He knows he wants to see her again, even more often and for longer than he used to.

He knows he wants _more_.

He has never felt anything like this before, and it leaves him confused, yes, but also scared.


	22. Bad Guys Don't Have Good Timing

**Merry Christmas everyone xx**

 **Chapter Twenty-Two - Bad Guys Don't Have Good Timing**

The first thing Mikaela registers is the relentless _throbbing_ in her head. Her mouth and eyes open in silent shock, her hands slowly lifting to clutch at her temples. She digs her nails into the skin, hoping it will distract from the headache, but she is entirely, miserably, unsuccessful.

She lies on her front on one of the plush couches in Tony's tower, with blinding light burning her retinas. A blanket slips from her shoulder as she rolls onto her side, fighting the urge to vomit that accompanies the movement. She has never felt this hungover in her _life_.

"Morning- or, afternoon," Tony speaks up from across the room.

"Stop shouting," Mikaela whimpers in a whisper, her face contorting in upset.

"You know, I don't think you moved at _all_ during that," he pauses, coming round into her eyeline, checking his watch, " _Twelve_ hour sleep."

Mikaela can't keep track of him as he walks from near her feet to across the room. "Stop running," she whimpers again.

Tony sits down and gives her an amused look, not hearing what she's saying but thankfully stopping his movement. "You look peachy."

Mikaela clutches her head harder and closes her eyes against another wave of nausea.

It takes her a long time to open her eyes again, but when she does, there's a glass of water and some painkillers in front of her face. Pepper holds them out to her from where she crouches.

Mikaela eyes the objects, trying to figure out if her stomach could even handle plain water. "Okay," she whispers, reaching a shaky hand out to take the glass.

It takes her fingers a moment to remember their strength before she can lift the glass out of Pepper's grasp. Then she slowly - so, so, slowly - takes her other hand from her head and uses it to push herself into a position nearer to sitting. Once that hand is free again, she brings it back to her temple and clutches at it desperately.

She stares down into the water, clear and empty but oh-so dangerous. Then she takes an experimental sip, awkwardly holds it on top of her tongue for a moment, before finding her courage and swallowing. She winces in anticipation of something terrible, closing one eye.

Nothing happens.

It even feels a little refreshing.

Releasing the breath she'd been holding, Mikaela looks then to the painkillers, and removes her hand from her head once more to take the pills from Pepper's hand. She attempts a smile at the redhead as she stands and goes to sit with Tony.

Mikaela takes a deep breath, tosses the pills in her mouth, fills it with water, and swallows. She retches almost immediately at the feeling of the pills on her throat, but she manages to stop herself from exploding and swallows again.

She lets out a loud groan, shivering.

"Why does the mercenary let you drink so much?" Tony asks, attempting to sound amused. The hint of annoyance in the slight furrowing of his eyebrows betrays him.

Mikaela closes her eyes and rests the glass on her belly, throwing her forearm over her eyes. "Dunno," she mumbles. "S'funny."

"Not so funny now, though, is it, Ghostie?"

Mikaela pouts in response, overwhelmed by self-pity.

"As if _you_ haven't drunk yourself into some states. Remember that birthday party-" Pepper starts to say.

"Okay, you _know_ I was going through a life-or-death, leaning more towards _death_ , crisis at that point in my life. How dare you criticise me at my most vulnerable state," Tony cuts in, defensive but playful.

"I'm just saying," Pepper replies, amused.

"Please stop screaming," Mikaela whimpers, her pout intensifying.

Tony scoffs. "We're not screaming, idiot," he says, but he does lower his tone enough for Mikaela to notice and be grateful of.

"Maybe you should take it easy on the nights out," Pepper advises. "You're young still - ignoring the fact that you're _far_ too young to even be drinking, your liver isn't meant to handle such a beating."

Mikaela huffs. "What's the point in having a mind ahead of my age if the rest of my organs are lagging behind?"

"Get over yourself, you're not _that_ smart for your age," Tony retorts.

Mikaela's so fragile that Tony's words actually sting. She turns her back to them and curls up, keeping a hold of her glass in case she needs to vomit into it.

She hears the sound of a light slap and some quiet words before Tony sighs loudly. " _Fine_ , that was harsh. Sorry."

Mikaela scoffs at the lack of sincerity, bundling herself in the blanket over her body. She gathers some of the material around her hand and rests it below her chin, the fluff tickling her skin.

Suddenly a warm hand rests on her head, followed by a platonic kiss on her hair. "You know that if you were any smarter, I'd have to kill you," Tony says fondly. "You'd put me out of business."

Mikaela smiles into the blanket.

But then she sighs and deflates, rolling onto her back again. Tony looks confused by her expression.

"I amn't that smart though, am I?" she says. "If I _was_ , I wouldn't be such a difficult person to be friends with, or I would have managed to stop you and Peter getting kidnapped, or I would know now how to make things right with Peter."

"Listen, Ghostie," Tony sighs, sitting on the arm of the couch behind her head. "Obviously I hated every second I spent watching you kill that guy. That goes without saying. But I know you did it because you care about Peter and you saw no other solution. The guy knew his name and Peter would never have been safe if he was let go." He pauses then, and Mikaela looks up at him, hanging on to his every word. He winces, struggling to gather his thoughts into coherent sentences. "In my opinion, you don't need to make anything right with Peter. You did what you did, you gave him your reasons, and you demonstrated that you still want to be friends with him. It's Peter who's holding back, so he should be the one putting the effort in to repair whatever it is that he thinks was broken that day."

"But _I'm_ the one who's suffering," Mikaela groans, scowling and lifting a hand to rub her forehead, hiding her eyes from view.

"What makes you think he isn't?" Tony challenges.

Mikaela hesitates, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm not the most uplifting presence to be around."

"So you think people don't miss you when you're not around? Kid, that's a crucial part of friendship. If you don't miss the person, you mustn't like them very much. And you've got plenty of friends."

"Peter's different," she mutters, confused.

"Why?"

"I don't know," she groans, dropping her hands to her torso. "I just don't think he feels the same."

"Do you like him?" Pepper asks gently.

"Yeah, of course. He's my friend," Mikaela replies.

"She means romantically, dipshit," Tony smirks.

Mikaela frowns. "I don't think so," she says. "It's never happened before and I just kind of assumed it never would."

"Why?" Pepper asks.

Mikaela shrugs. "I guess I think I'm not capable of it. Or I'm not someone to be," she pauses, her mind slow, " _Wanted_ in that way."

"I'm officially uncomfortable," Tony says, standing up off the couch and walking away.

"Mikaela-" Pepper begins.

"Please don't," Mikaela smiles apologetically. "I don't need a 'know your worth' talk right now."

Pepper gives her a look. "You know you're worth _something_ , though, right?" she asks. "Without you, Rhodey would be dead, Tony never would have recovered from his fallout with Steve, Peter would have had his identity uncovered _months_ ago, _and_ Peter and Tony might not have come back from their kidnapping."

"They wouldn't have been kidnapped in the first place," Mikaela counters.

"Maybe not," Pepper shrugs. She takes a deep breath and sighs. "Okay, so, maybe you don't like Peter romantically, and maybe you do. Either way, you care about him a lot and you've shown you're willing to do just about anything for him. Even when you weren't sure whether you even liked him as a person, you stuck with it and you were there for him, watching over him. Yes, Peter doesn't owe you anything because he didn't ask for any of that; _but_ he can't ignore all that you've done and are willing to do for him. He _has_ to see your worth." Pepper pauses, shrugging. "If he doesn't, then he's a moron."

"Plus, sometimes you're a little bit adorable," Tony chimes in, returning to the conversation with a smoothie in hand.

Mikaela's face crumples in disgust. "Please tell me that's not for me."

He scowls at her. "You know the world doesn't revolve around you, right? This is mine, asshole."

Mikaela smiles abashedly. Then she looks at them both with tender fondness, her heart swelling. "I love you guys," she says, for the first time.

Tony takes a sip of his smoothie and makes a face, clearly repulsed. He coughs and wipes at his mouth, glancing between the glass and Mikaela. "Yeah, Ghostie, we love you too."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela spends another few hours slowly recovering and chatting to Tony and Pepper. Sometimes they leave her be and do their own things, but one or both of them always comes back to check on her - or make fun of her, in Tony's case. Eventually, she feels stable enough to remove herself from them.

"Are you sure?" Pepper asks, her face a combination of amusement and concern.

"She's fine," Tony says, _his_ face bored.

"I'm taking up all the attention," Mikaela says with mock empathy. "It's really time I give it back to Tony."

Tony shoves her into the elevator as Pepper laughs, nodding in agreement. "Bye, bitch," Tony quips.

When the doors close, Mikaela leans her forehead against the cool metal.

"You alright, Mikaela?" FRIDAY asks.

Mikaela smiles with bitter amusement. "Dandy."

She struggles to ignore the way her stomach lurches when the elevator stops at the lobby and quickly exits the tiny space. There aren't many people mulling about, just a couple of tourists and a gaggle of businessmen, but they all glance at her as she stumbles into the space, and she feels their judgement.

Scowling at them with a challenge, she straightens herself and marches towards the door. Confused by her, they decide to keep their opinions to themselves and turn back to their conversations. She considers what she must look like, being..

Mikaela falters.

What _age_ is she? Fifteen? Sixteen?

She wonders if it's a little weird that she doesn't quite remember. She hasn't celebrated a birthday since she was in Scotland, and she thinks the date she holds vaguely in her head might belong to some other event that she's just managed to mix up. She used to count another year having passed around June/July, but that was just because she didn't remember having her birthday in the winter and she figured leaving it until the middle of the year would be most accurate.

At some point she just lost interest. She didn't have anyone to celebrate it with and she didn't think her age would ever need to matter, given the fact that she could make fifty fake IDs for herself, with backstories and all, in the blink of an eye. She didn't think anyone would ever care about it again.

Walking blindly along the streets, Mikaela rubs at the lingering hangover headache between her temples. She feels even more sluggish and exhausted now that she's moving and out in the fresh air - it has done nothing to freshen her up at all.

Due to this fragile, weak state, Mikaela cannot fight against the direction of her thoughts. She's already wallowing in self pity about her physical turmoil, why not wallow about her emotional turmoil too?

She never thought she'd miss Peter as much as she does. Even when she spent time with him it never occurred to her how much she enjoyed it, not until now, when she can't see him at all. She misses the way he stumbles over his words when he's nervous, she misses the way his hair bounces around after being under his mask for so long, the way his face lights up so easily with excitement, the way he speaks about his friends and family and the things he's passionate about.

She misses the radiant positivity in his presence, his ability to be so happy and loving and carefree despite everything that's happened to him. She misses the way she instantly feels her spirits lift whenever she sees him. She misses the sound of his voice, the smell of open air and adventure off of him, and the warmth of his eyes.

She can't stand all this _waiting_. She wants to speak to him, to clear things up, despite what Tony says. What if she loses Peter just because she was too stubborn to keep trying to work things out?

Mikaela slows her walking and moves to the edge of the pavement where the marching New Yorkers are less frequent. There she stops, and takes out her phone.

She stares at the screen, wondering if she should text him from the actual number for once so that he has a point of contact for her. Maybe that's what's been getting in the way all this time.

Her fingers move to open up a new message, but a revving engine distracts her.

She frowns and looks around slowly, trying not to arouse suspicion. The traffic on the road is moving, so hearing the revving of a static vehicle marks it as a potential threat.

Her eyes land on a black van behind the car parked beside her. The door on the side of it has been slid open, and in front of the gap stands a very ominous figure.

"It'd be a good idea to come with us," the man says.

Mikaela turns her back on them and starts off again at a brisk pace. Someone bumps into her and knocks the phone in her hand loose, sending it crashing to the ground.

"Shit," she hisses, continuing on.

She can hear the van starting to pull out, so she extends her mind and overloads all of its electrical shit, cutting the battery out. A quick CCTV check tells her there are four men following her, walking even faster than she is.

Mikaela turns a corner and breaks into a run.

Before she gets three steps, she feels a sharp pain in the back of her thigh. She stumbles, her leg slowly going numb. Her hand clutches at it and she scowls with concentration and anger, furious that they've decided to come after her when she's so _fucking_ hungover.

She knows the men behind her will catch her in no time with this buggered leg, so she spots a woman mid-way through exiting her car, and makes a beeline for it.

She shoves the woman out the way and falls into the driver's seat, encompassing the car with her mind. It has a feature which allows some company - insurance or maker, she isn't sure - to take control of it in emergency situations, and she focuses herself on it, using it to make the car do what she wants.

She hears shouts from the woman and her pursuers as she closes the door and makes the car burst forward into the traffic.

Wincing, Mikaela presses the heels of her palms against her temples, the pain making her feel ill. They couldn't have had worse fucking timing, these assholes. She is absolutely not in the right condition to tackle this issue today.

Struggling to concentrate, she casts tendrils of her mind outwards and learns that the four men have split up into three separate vans, which are now not far behind her on the road.

She doesn't have the energy or focus to attack all three at once while simultaneously driving her car through red lights, so she settles for commandeering one and blowing up its battery. With satisfaction, she realises a second van rammed up the back of the exploding one and got caught up in the damage.

By now, the third one is almost on her. With a shout, she reacts almost too late to the traffic at an intersection as she flies past them and onto the wrong side of the road, dodging oncoming cars. Her body is being thrown about the front of the car thanks to the lack of time to get her seatbelt sorted, so she has to rely on CCTV feeds which only depletes her energy that much more.

The van rams into her, and she collides with the driver side door, hitting her head hard. Shaking the disorientation away, Mikaela grunts and rams the van back again, before pulling away to avoid slamming into an oncoming bus.

They exchange blows back and forth for another two blocks, until the van suddenly slams on its breaks and disappears from view. Mikaela frowns and checks her path, but she knows the cars approaching from the right will only do as much damage as _skimming_ her back bumper.

She didn't have time to consider the vehicles in front of her, who were supposed to be stopped at a red light anyway.

When the van comes hurtling towards her, Mikaela thinks she should reach out to someone, to Tony or Logan or Peter, _someone_.

But she doesn't react fast enough, and she is slammed into unconsciousness, alone.

xxxxxxxxx

 **Three Weeks Later**

Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack on his shoulder as he gazes up at Avengers Tower. He purses his lips, wondering if Mikaela is looking out one of the massive glass walls even as he looks up at them. He has tried to get in contact with her, now that he knows he still wants her in his life, but it's impossible to find someone who actively works to make herself unfindable. He doesn't even have a phone number for her, because she doesn't need one.

He takes a deep breath and moves forward, walking through the doors as they open for him. At the far end of the lobby, he catches a glimpse of Pepper Potts before she heads into a room marked "Staff Only". Happy watches her go into the room and then turns to look into the lobby, taking a moment to spot Peter amongst all the businessmen.

Frowning in, for once, an unexaggerated manner, Happy purposefully strides towards Peter. The sincerity in his expression makes Peter feel almost worried - Happy usually takes himself far too seriously, he's never so genuinely concerned about something that he forgets to do so.

"What are you doing here?" Happy demands.

Peter feels insignificant. "I wanted to ask Mr Stark if he's seen Mikaela recently, or knows where she is, or-"

"We don't know where she is," Happy replies sharply, glancing around as if looking for eavesdroppers. "He's not got time to see you."

Peter frowns. "Is everything okay?"

An elevator opens across the lobby and Mr Stark emerges, his face tired and stressed. He spots Peter instantly and jogs over, his expression brightening with anticipation.

"Pete, have you seen her? Have you seen Mikaela?" Mr Stark asks quickly.

Peter's frown deepens and worry sparks in his chest. "No, I came to see if she was here," Peter replies quietly. "Mr Stark, what's going on?"

Mr Stark's idea of a reply is grabbing Peter's bicep and leading him out of the back of the building towards a waiting car. Happy hurries into the driver's seat as Mr Stark pushes Peter into the back and climbs in after him.

"Let's go," Mr Stark says, his voice tight and grim.

"Where are we going?" Peter asks, glancing at Happy as the man starts to drive.

"I finally found her mercenary friend," Mr Stark replies, his hand clenching into a fist, unclenching, and then clenching again. "I know where the mutants are, but they're a last resort type thing."

As they drive in tense silence, Peter's mind whirls. Mr Stark doesn't get into this kind of a panic without good reason, and he's panicking because he clearly doesn't know where Mikaela is. Peter knows that Mikaela is like a cat - she comes and goes as she pleases, sometimes leaving it for a while, but she always comes back to her base.

Mr Stark panicking means that Mikaela hasn't come back, and she hasn't been away for as long as this before - or, at least, not recently.

There are two possibilities: Mikaela has decided she needs an extended period of time to herself and is off happily doing her own thing; _or_ , something terrible has happened, and she hasn't come back yet because she _can't_.

"Is she okay?" Peter hears himself ask, quiet and scared.

Mr Stark glances at him and pats his chest once. "It's Mikaela. She can survive anything," the man replies.

Peter doesn't feel uplifted. He stares out the window but doesn't really see the streets whizzing by. He can't believe that he has finally decided to get over himself and reach out to Mikaela, and she is nowhere to be found. He can't believe he's been so wrapped up in himself and what he thought of her to check in and make sure nothing bad had happened, like-

"Oh my God," Peter mutters. Mr Stark looks at him and Peter meets his gaze. "Do you think her dad is involved?"

Mr Stark's face is hard and bitter. "It seems the most likely explanation," he replies. "He always sounded like a dick," he continues, looking away and attempting a less serious tone.

All Peter has to go off about Mikaela's dad is what he saw in the theatre when he and Mr Stark had been kidnapped and, in that theatre, it had appeared that her dad had some sort of force at his disposal - normal men, but still men with guns and knives. The thought does little to comfort Peter. His knee bounces anxiously.

"We're here," Happy announces.

Mr Stark is opening the door beside him before Happy even finishes his first word. Peter isn't far behind, spilling out onto the street in such a rush that he has to stop his bag from falling off his back. He looks up at the half-decent apartment building in front of them, and follows Mr Stark into it when the man marches past.

They climb two sets of stairs, taking the steps two at a time, until they come to a door. Mr Stark knocks on it loudly.

A moment later, a woman opens it. "Uh, hi?" she greets, smiling with a confused frown.

"Hi," Mr Stark replies with a forced smile. "Where's the mercenary?"

"Sorry, man, sick day!" a voice shouts from inside the apartment. The woman attempts to nod in agreement, but her amusement betrays her.

Mr Stark pushes in.

"Hey!" the woman frowns.

"Sorry," Peter mutters as he slips inside too.

He hears the woman close the door behind him, and goes to stand next to Mr Stark, who has stopped in a doorway. Peter can hardly believe the sight that greets them.

A man lounges on the couch, naked, save for the pillow over his crotch. But that isn't the most shocking part.

His skin is dimpled and scarred as if he has been covered head to toe in acid at some point in his life. There is no hair on his head, he has no eyebrows, and no chest or leg hair that Peter can see.

"I know right?" the man says, staring at Peter. "I'm like a baby left in the bath too long."

"More like a scrotum," Mr Stark retorts.

Peter stares at his mentor, shocked.

The man just grins and sucks a fingertip, making a loud popping sound.

"What's going on?" the woman asks, squeezing past them to stand by the couch the man lies on.

"We're looking for Mikaela," Mr Stark says stiffly.

The man scoffs. "Good luck," he replies sarcastically.

Mr Stark bristles. "When did you last see her?"

The man frowns a little, looking at them with new interest. "Why?"

"Because I haven't seen her in three weeks."

The woman glances down at the man, concern ghosting across her face. The man remains unbothered. "And?"

Mr Stark shifts and grits his teeth. " _And_ she doesn't go away for that long. Not anymore. It's unlike her."

"Okay, clearly you're too clingy and she needed space."

"Wade," the woman says quietly.

Peter remembers Wade from the theatre, and the way he'd popped broken bones back into place after being thrown out the windshield. He had also stared at Peter and said to Mikaela he'd wanted to keep Peter.

The teenager shifts uncomfortably.

"We're worried about her," Peter says. "I haven't seen her in a while because-"

"Because you got all high and mighty when she killed someone to protect you," Wade cuts in pointedly, observing his fingernails.

Peter winces, but knows he deserves it. "Yeah," he says. Wade pauses and looks at him again. "I acted like an ass, but I came to Mr Stark's tower to try apologise and make things right and then he told me he didn't know where she was and even _I_ know it's not like her to be gone for this long - not without an injury or a big fight or something before disappearing."

Wade quirks a hairless eyebrow at him. "Alright, kid, breathe," he soothes sarcastically. "You ever consider she went away because of _you_?"

Peter's heart hurts.

"It's not that," Mr Stark speaks up, crossing his arms. "We talked about the whole thing. She wouldn't have left. It was obvious that she wanted to try reach out to Peter again."

Peter feels hope swell in his chest at Mr Stark's words. "Really?"

Before Mr Stark can snap at him that his question is stupid, Wade cuts in. "When did you last hear from her, boy scout?"

"Uh, maybe like six weeks ago?" Peter tries to remember. "She sent me a text and tried to call me, but I said I needed more time," he finishes, feeling utterly guilty.

"Okay," Wade chirps, swinging his legs round to plant his feet on the floor and sit up straight. There is a carefree tone to his voice, but it's concealing something much, much darker. "So someone has her. That's fine."

The woman watches him with a wary frown. He stands up, letting the pillow fall to the ground, and marches to his kitchen table, on the bottom of which he had clearly taped a gun. He cocks it and looks back at Peter and Tony in an almost provocative manner.

"I'll ask around and see if anyone knows anything. I would recommend checking in with baldy and his crew," Wade says with an air of authority.

Mr Stark stares at him. "Why don't _you_ go speak with the mutants? You're one of them."

"Okay, wow, are you racist?" Wade gasps, turning his body to face them fully again. Peter is confused to see the man erect. "Listen, I'm a _murderer_ , a _criminal_ , the one-two-lame-crew don't much appreciate that. _Also_ , being a criminal means I can get info on other criminals. Can you do that?"

"Probably," Mr Stark retorts.

Wade deflates, appearing bored and drained. "Okay, well, I never get the budget to speak to the high honcho when I'm at the mansion, so you'll have better luck."

Mr Stark tosses him a burner phone. "Contact me if you find anything."

"How about _you_ contact _me_ if _you_ find anything," Wade counters, puffing up his chest and stepping up to Mr Stark.

Mr Stark merely rolls his eyes and turns away, walking to the front door. Peter glances between them, painfully aware of Wade's eyes burning holes in his skull.

"Uh, thanks," Peter says. "Sorry for barging in," he adds, looking at the woman. She smiles with a hint of amusement shining through the underlying concern for Mikaela.

Peter hurries out and down the stairs after his mentor, getting into the car before they leave without him.

"Where now?" Happy asks grimly.

Mr Stark brings up an address on his phone and flicks it forward to Happy's navigation system.

"What is that?" Happy frowns.

"Just go," Mr Stark sighs, rubbing his face. "And be cautious when we get close."

They travel in silence. Peter tries not to think about why Mikaela hasn't got in contact with anyone when she could do so with the click of a finger. As far as he knows, the only time Mikaela hasn't been able to use her mutation was after Ultron attacked her. Either something like that has happened again, or she's been kept unconscious for the past three weeks, or…

Peter doesn't want to finish that thought.

Time seems to move both quickly and slowly until finally they are driving along a road with a high wall on their right. Behind the wall Peter can see the tops of a mass of trees, and he gets the feeling that the wall surrounds something immense.

"Alright, stop here, Happy," Mr Stark instructs, leaning forward to look out the windshield.

"Are you sure? That's a long drive," Happy replies.

"We're not going down it."

Mr Stark gets out the car and walks round it towards the massive, open gates. Peter hesitates but ultimately decides to follow, too curious to sit back and watch.

The gates have a sign reading "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters." Peter feels a shiver run up his spine at the realisation that "gifted youngsters" means _mutants_. The place the mutants gather and learn is a _school_ \- it seems so obvious now.

His eyes move past the gates, down the endless driveway, and land on the huge, traditional building at the bottom. It is five stories high, with huge windows and turrets and an immense expanse of grass and trees around it. Peter has never seen anything so grand in his life.

"Woah," he breathes.

"Not exactly Midtown High, is it?" Mr Stark says in another attempt at covering up his stress with humour.

"How do you know about this place?"

Mr Stark winces. "I shouldn't. It was back when I was trying to figure out who Mikaela was. She wasn't happy about it."

"What did you mean when you said we weren't going down the driveway?" Peter asks, desperate to see what a school for mutants would be like.

"I meant we aren't going down the driveway," Mr Stark says, giving him a look. "There are kids here, Pete, we can't just walk in uninvited. This is their safe haven. We shouldn't even be here."

"But how will we talk to them?" Peter frowns.

"They'll come to us."

"How do you know?"

Mr Stark rolls his eyes. "Because they'll know we're here by now and see we aren't going to intrude."

"Do you mean the telepath will know we're here?" Peter asks, half uneasy, half awed.

Before Mr Stark can answer, they see someone move through the front doors of the mansion onto the steps outside. It appears to be someone broad and hairy - most likely the man Peter saw with blades in his hands at the theatre. Then a slimmer figure emerges behind the man, tall and elegant, with a white mohawk.

The two begin to make their way up the driveway side by side, and Peter glances up at Mr Stark.

"Do you think they'll be angry about us coming here?"

"Probably," Mr Stark shrugs. "But hopefully they'll understand."

It takes the mutants about five minutes to walk the length of the driveway to them.

"What are you doing here?" the man scowls, radiating pure irritation. The woman with him seems more concerned than angry.

"Mikaela has been uncharacteristically absent," Mr Stark replies, his voice tense as if holding back a biting retort. "I was wondering if you'd seen her in the past three weeks?"

The woman's posture stiffens. "She's _missing_?"

The gruff man crosses his arms. "Maybe she just needed time to herself after everything she's been through."

"She'd tell me if she was doing that," Mr Stark insists.

"She would," the woman agrees, directing her words at her companion. Then she looks back at the two of them. "She wasn't acting weird before she left? Nothing to suggest any threats or where she might have gone?"

Mr Stark shifts. "You know as well as I do that her dad seems the most likely threat to Mikaela. Unless your mutant guy still wants her."

The woman shakes her head. "No, we think Magneto grew tired of chasing her. He isn't a man to beg."

"So, her dad has her," the gruff man concludes. "How the hell can a human like that keep Mikaela from getting in contact with anyone?"

"Maybe she doesn't want to be found," the woman says. At the aghast glances from Mr Stark and Peter, she continues, "I mean maybe she wants to deal with it herself, rather than ask for help."

"That does sound like her," Mr Stark mutters, rubbing his eye. Peter can see the exhaustion in his face.

"Surely she wouldn't leave it this long, though," Peter says, confused. "Three weeks is a long time to stay that stubborn - I don't think even Mikaela would do that."

The woman hums in agreement, nodding. "Something must be stopping her from reaching out."

"If she's still alive," the gruff man says, so calmly that Peter takes a moment to understand what he actually said.

"That's not an option," Mr Stark says, tense.

"It's basically the only explanation."

"It's _not_ an option," Mr Stark bites out, eyes ablaze with pure fury and, Peter notices, fear.

"She can't be dead," Peter shakes his head, refusing to consider it. "She isn't."

"Thinking like that is only going to make it worse when-"

"Logan," the woman cuts in sharply, glaring at him. "Mikaela being dead isn't the only explanation." Peter stares at her, desperate. "Maybe her father has her somewhere far enough away from anything technological that she can't access it and contact us."

"Yeah," Peter nods enthusiastically. "That totally makes sense!"

"Can your telepath find her?" Mr Stark asks.

The man, Logan, scowls at him. "The _Professor_ can try, but Mikaela's mind is difficult for him because of her mutation."

"What about her dad?" Peter suggests, less presumptuously in the hopes that Logan won't turn his anger on him.

Thankfully, the mutant's scowl relaxes somewhat. "That should be easier. We'll get started, the Professor will contact you if he finds anything."

"It was good of you to come to us," the woman says as Logan turns to walk away. "It's good that Mikaela has you looking out for her."

Mr Stark nods awkwardly and then turns to walk back to the car.

Peter looks up at the woman and says, "Thanks. I hope the Professor finds her."

She smiles softly at him. "Me too."

Peter follows Mr Stark and gets into the car again, sitting down next to the drained man. "Are you okay, Mr Stark?" Peter asks quietly, hesitant.

The man smiles tiredly at him, but at least it's genuine. He lays a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I'm fine, kid. And Mikaela will be too. We'll find her."


	23. A Mild Lapse in Reality

**Chapter Twenty-Three - A Mild Lapse in Reality**

Wade relishes the burn of the liquor as it claws down his throat.

"Nothing?" his creepy friend - as Mikaela called him - clarifies.

"Nada," Wade confirms, setting the shot glass down on the bar with a clink. "Sometimes I wonder if she even existed in the first place," he mumbles dramatically.

Weasel sniffs and stands up straighter. "I smell money," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. Then he looks left and his eyebrows shoot up. "I smell a _lot_ of money. Dirty, dirty money."

"That dirty smell is this shithole," a voice replies.

Wade looks over at Tony Stark and sighs wistfully. "I knew you'd come."

Stark glares at him. "You _asked_ me to."

Wade pats the stool next to him. "Come. Have a drink with an old friend, one last time."

"You're coming outside."

"What? Why? I like it here," Wade protests, abandoning the one-sided roleplay.

Stark looks at him blankly for a moment. "I'm not bringing a _kid_ in here."

"Why not? This is Mikaela's favourite watering hole!"

"It's true," Weasel puts in. "Her thirst for-"

"I don't care," Stark cuts in. "Outside."

Wade groans loudly. "Fine."

He slides off the stool, picks up the shot glass he just emptied, and throws it to the floor. Stark turns back at the smash and looks from the broken shards to Wade's face, unphased and unimpressed. Then he turns back to the door and walks out.

Wade pulls at the collar of his jacket and explains to Weasel, "I'm asserting my masculinity."

Weasel nods. "You're doing a great job. Go get 'em, tiger."

Wade walks outside onto the pavement and follows Stark's direction to get into the parked car. He sees Peter Parker sitting nervously across from him, and gives him a dazzling grin. The kid is completely adorable with his little terrified eyes and awkward chuckles.

Stark gets in next to the kid and looks at Wade expectantly. "Anything?"

Wade battles against the overwhelming rage that bothers him whenever he thinks about Mikaela and her situation. "Criminals, as always, are no help to their communities and do much more damage than good. I haven't heard a _thing_. Not a single peep about my darling angel. I broke _several_ limbs, I shot _multiple_ people, and not one of them told me the story I want to hear."

The kid looks heartbroken. "It's been seven weeks," he says quietly, deflated.

"I know, Pete," Stark says, looking at him gently. "She's still out there somewhere but I promise we'll find her."

"What's with the mutants? What're they bringing to the table?" Wade questions.

Stark looks at him grimly. "Their Professor hasn't found her and he can't seem to get any information from her dad or his gang - something about some fancy helmets and the information being trusted only to a few people."

"Fuck," Wade spits, hitting a hand against the door next to him. He sees the kid flinch. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I get carried away," he smiles sweetly, with only a hint of malice.

"What do we do now?" Peter asks.

"I need to go unalive some people," Wade chirps, slapping his hands on his knees. "Frankly, I don't give a shit what you do." And, with that, he leaves the car.

xxxxxxxxxx

Peter falls back onto the seat behind him, at a complete loss. "She would have found us instantly," he mutters, dejected.

He feels Mr Stark glance at him and look away again, uncomfortable. "Yeah," the man agrees, sighing.

"Do you think she's wondering where we are?" Peter asks, tears stinging his eyes. "Why we haven't come yet?"

Mr Stark threads his arm between Peter's narrow shoulders and the seat behind him, clasping his hand on the shoulder furthest from him. He gives the boy a comforting squeeze. "She's smart, Peter, she'll have figured out why by now."

Peter nods silently, feeling too guilty to believe him.

"Let's take him home, Happy," Mr Stark instructs the man in the driver's seat.

"Yeah, boss," Happy replies, solemn. He hasn't been his usual overenthusiastic self since before Mikaela went missing. Peter doesn't think Happy's _that_ concerned about Mikaela, but he _is_ concerned about Mr Stark.

Peter is concerned too. The billionaire looks like he hasn't slept in months, and he's thinner too. His temper is shorter than ever and if he's not angry then he's a slow, blank skeleton of a man the rest of the time. Peter knows that Mr Stark is putting on a brave face for him. He appreciates it more than anything. He just wishes he could do the same for his mentor.

With half-hearted goodbyes, they drop Peter off outside his building and he trudges up the stairs to his apartment. His Aunt May sits on the couch watching the TV, but she instantly switches it off when she sees him come in.

"Hey," she says, a hint of hope in her voice. "Any news?"

Peter feels his eyes sting again in reply and May's face crumples in sympathy, opening her arms to him. He drags his feet across the floor and collapses onto the couch, leaning into her. She wraps her arms around him and holds him close to her, whispering words of comfort like she used to when he was little and had a bad dream.

"I just don't understand _how_ we haven't found her," he sniffs, staring into space. "The mutant, Logan, thinks it's just becoming more obvious that she's dead." He spits the word out like poison, his face contorting in anger, desperation, and fear.

May gives him a squeeze. "Shame on him for giving up on her."

Peter frowns. "I actually don't know that he has," he muses. "I think maybe he's just preparing himself, or covering up the fact that he's worried too."

"People do strange things in these kinds of situations," May sighs. "As long as you keep hope, you don't give up on your friend, and you stay _smart_ ," she pauses, emphasising her last point, "You'll be fine, and you'll find her."

Peter smiles through his sorrow. "I'll be smart, May."

She hugs him even closer and keeps him there for a while. Then he shifts a little to tell her he's ready for her to let go, and she does so without a word. He kisses her on the top of her head as he pushes himself to his feet and turns to go into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He sighs heavily, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and runs a hand down his face. He stares blankly at himself in the mirror, wondering why they can't find Mikaela, wondering how they could improve their search, wondering if she blames them for being trapped wherever she is for so long.

Apart from the drowning sense of misery and longing, Peter feels numb, and he has done for a few weeks. He has to force-feed himself. He has to record his classes in case he loses focus and needs to listen to them again later. He tries _so_ hard to be normal for Ned, but even his best friend is starting to suffer too. He says Mikaela sounds like she must be an amazing person for Peter to be so cut up about her. Peter says he hasn't the words to describe her, that she's more important than she'll ever know.

His heart _aches_. Every morning he wakes up and checks his phone and TV screens for messages, hoping beyond hope that today is the day she contacts them. Every morning he sinks deeper into his depthless misery.

He misses her more than he can say. Even after the gap of avoidance, he did not anticipate being affected like this. He misses her like he'd miss Ned, or May. He misses her like he'd miss his home, like she's something so deeply ingrained in him it physically ails him to not have her there with him.

For some reason, he sometimes compares his feelings to those he had for Liz - because he's sure now that he once had them, but doesn't anymore; he's moved on. The feelings he has towards Mikaela are unlike anything he's ever felt before, stronger and _different_ than those for Liz. He doesn't really know what that means.

Or maybe he does but he's too afraid to consider it in the current circumstances.

A sudden restlessness comes over him. He calls through the wood of his door, "May, I'm going out for a while."

There is a pause before her reply. "Okay. Be safe," she says. "Please."

He gets out of his civilian clothes and dons his red and blue suit, pulling the mask over his face and breathing deeply as his senses slot into a comprehensible, manageable stream. Then he slides his bedroom window open and crawls out into the impending darkness of night.

xxxxxxxxx

Another five weeks later, Peter finishes up the evening's rounds and returns to the alley he tends to leave his bag of clothes in after school. He rolls his shoulder before he swings his backpack onto it, wincing slightly at the dull pain that flares at the movement. Someone had managed to get the slip on him tonight, and it wasn't the first time.

Peter knows he needs to focus 100% on his vigilante work if he's going to do it at all, but he's finding it _so_ hard to keep his mind focused.

As he begins his walk home, his senses tingle warningly, and he leaps up onto the side of the building next to him, watching the small, metal darts pass through the space he'd occupied seconds before. Looking over his shoulder, he sees seven men approaching from the depths of the alley.

"We can do this the hard way," one man calls out, "Where we chase you and bring more and more men into it until finally you fall," he pauses, his words punctuated by the appearance of another eight men at the mouth of the alley. " _Or_ , if you didn't feel compelled to make us do a shitload of work-"

Peter looks up and sees ten men on the roof above him and another eleven on the opposite roof. Each and every one of them hold similar guns to the ones in the back of the alley, their ammo those strange darts.

"- you could always just surrender."

Peter looks back to the speaker, his heart thumping. "You sure you wanna do this?" he calls, thankful his voice is steady.

"Are _you_?" the man challenges. "Surrender now and maybe we'll even put you in the same room as your friend."

Peter's face goes slack and he drops quietly to the ground. The men around him flinch and aim their guns in the blink of an eye.

"You have Mikaela?" he asks, trembling. His words are so quiet he doesn't even know if the man will have heard him. He can barely hear himself, with his blood hammering in his ears.

"Unfortunately," the man says bitterly. "Our methods aren't yielding the results our boss thought they would. So, we're branching out into new tactics."

Peter isn't concerned about the mass threat surrounding him. He isn't concerned about the fact that so many people know Spider-Man to be Peter Parker. He isn't concerned that even more people might learn the truth. May's voice flickers through his thoughts, telling him to be smart. But then he asks himself, what would Mikaela do if their positions were swapped?

"Take me to her."

The man's head tilts. "Smart move. First, where's the suit?"

Peter pats his backpack.

"Alright. You're coming, but you're leaving the backpack," the man instructs.

He drops the bag to the ground and watches as they approach him on either side. He turns sideways, deciding against lifting his hands in a peaceful gesture because, after all, these are the men who have Mikaela and have kept her from him. They walk slowly, cautiously, keeping their dart guns trained on him, glancing at each other warily.

Peter feels a swell of pride in response, enjoying the knowledge that even without his suit they know how much of a threat he is.

"You got a phone on you? Any pieces of technology?" the man asks when he reaches him, patting Peter down with one hand as his other maintains aim.

"My phone's in my pocket," Peter replies, flicking his fingers towards the right pocket of his jumper.

The man reaches in and takes the phone, dropping it to the ground. "Anything else?"

Peter doesn't want to take any risks. "There's an iPod in my left pocket."

When they have him stripped of technology, a van slides to a stop at the mouth of the alley. Peter is shoved towards it and along the way the man pulls a material bag over Peter's head, blinding him.

They drive for hours. Nobody talks much. Peter's heart thumps loudly in his chest, his mind whirling with thoughts and emotions. On one hand, he is utterly ecstatic that he's going to see Mikaela; but on the other he's terrified to see what state she's in. The man's words loop in his mind, the thing about _methods_. What _methods_ are they using? And why?

He thinks about May too, hoping she won't be too worried about him. And Mr Stark. Peter doesn't think Mr Stark would be as distressed about him going missing as he is about Mikaela, but the man doesn't need to deal with _two_ missing kids. Peter feels guilty about the two of them, but he's been feeling guilty about Mikaela since he first realised how stupid he'd been to deny her company after she protected him, and maybe she just needs another head to help her figure out a way to escape.

Finally, the van stops.

Peter is roughly guided out of the vehicle and into the open air again. It's getting colder, so he knows the night has worn on.

"How'd it go?" a voice asks.

"Fine," the man who spoke to Peter in the alley replies. "He surrendered as soon as we mentioned her."

"I thought he might. Put him in the car." As Peter is directed towards another vehicle, he hears the new man continue, "Did anyone follow you?"

"Nah, boss. And we took everything technological off him."

"Good."

Peter is shoved into the car, thankful for the comfy seats. Knowing that he's with the boss, and seemingly the boss alone, puts him on edge. The voice sounds somewhat familiar, and he thinks it might well be Mikaela's dad after all.

Another few hours pass in silence as the boss drives them to another location, one that his minions don't know about. That tactic doesn't surprise Peter - it had been why the Professor hadn't managed to glean any information from the gang's lower members.

When the car stops, Mikaela's dad - Peter remembers she had called him Archie - grabs him by the arm and pulls him outside into the cold night air. They walk on an uneven surface until they reach a building. Archie unlocks three locks before he opens the door and it groans like some big metal slab. Only when it slams shut behind him does Archie remove the bag over Peter's head.

Peter struggles against the sudden urge to attack the man. "Where is she?" he mutters coldly, too angry to think much of the strange helmet on the man's head.

The man smirks and pats his cheek. "Come with me."

Peter follows him, his eyes roaming around the filthy hall. It's an old building, apparently abandoned a long time ago, with heavy metal doors and hallways that look like they might once have been clinically clean. He has no idea where he is, but he knows he's going to finally see Mikaela again, and that's enough.

Archie sits him in a small room and leaves briefly. Peter swings his head around, straining to see any signs of Mikaela. A thought gnaws at him, and his fists clench. When Archie returns with a miserable ham sandwich and glass of water, Peter scowls at him hatefully.

"Is she even here?"

Archie rolls his eyes. "Yes. Eat this."

Peter looks at it distrustfully. "I'm not hungry. I want to see Mikaela."

Archie sits down opposite him, crossing his arms over his chest as he observes him. "I can't understand her fondness for you."

Peter frowns, confused. "Why did you take her?"

Archie sighs and glances at the doorway. "Because I want us to work together."

"You mean you want her to work _for_ you," Peter retorts.

"She's _my_ kid," Archie bites out. "And she's lost her way. She needs me to remind her of her purpose."

"I'm sorry but you just sound insane," Peter mutters, shaking his head.

Archie looks at him with cold, murderous eyes. He reaches up to take off the weird helmet and runs his fingers through his thinning hair. "You've been spending too much time with her," he remarks.

"What does the helmet do?" Peter demands, his hands rubbing each other nervously under the table, out of sight.

"Protects this," Archie replies, tapping his head.

"From mutants?"

"Yeah."

Peter looks at him and the helmet on the table. "Why aren't you wearing it?"

Archie smirks. "That asshole Magneto made the mistake of telling me about his helmet, and this bunker, which he had built a long time ago as a safe house. It has the same metal interwoven through normal metal, which means it does effectively the same thing as the helmet. It isn't 100% guaranteed to work, but the telepath won't be looking here."

"And the car? Mikaela should be able to use it to contact people, but you've just left it outside."

Archie makes a face of impatience. "Mikaela has had a," he pauses, finding the right words, "Well, she is experiencing a mild lapse in reality."

Peter frowns. "What does that mean?"

"You're not gonna eat?"

Peter shakes his head. Archie's expression turns bored and he nods, standing up. He gestures for Peter to follow as he leads him back into the hallway and further into the bunker. Peter's heart thumps loudly in his chest, his body trembling with anticipation, excitement, and fear.

Then Archie unlocks another door, and a range of emotions surge through Peter when he enters.

His heart bursts with pure, radiant joy, his eyes stinging at the beautiful sight in front of him. Mikaela is _there_. She is _right_ _there_. He has finally found her.

But then he really _sees_ her. Shock, concern, anger, guilt, shame, and several more emotions rush through him at a speed he can barely follow.

Mikaela is broken.

Her arm is in a sling. She is bruised and battered. Her clothes are dirty and torn. Her hair is matted and cut at weird angles. Her face…

Peter stumbles forwards a few steps, a hand almost reaching out to her.

Behind the black eye, the swollen lip, the dried blood under her nose, Mikaela's expression is ghostly. She seems like she's not really there, like her soul has been stripped from her. She is blank and dull and nothing like the fiery, grumpy, fiercely loyal girl he knew before.

"Mikaela?"

Her name comes out of him in a whimper, like someone calling to their loved one in their last moments of life.

She looks at him, but he feels like she doesn't really see him.

Then she speaks.

"You're not here. You're not Pete."


	24. Desperation

**Chapter Twenty-Four - Desperation**

Tony looks up at the sound of the elevator doors opening and frowns. "Ms Parker?"

Happy indicates for Peter's aunt to leave the elevator first, but she barely even registers it before she's out and marching towards Tony. The woman's face is pale and strained, and it does nothing to ease Tony's already turbulent mind.

"Peter didn't come home last night," she says, tense and urgent.

Tony hears Pepper get to her feet behind him. "Has he done this before?" she asks.

Tony is glaring at the floor, his face growing hot with anger.

"Never. He promised me he would always come home at night so I'd know he was safe," May replies.

"Was he dealing with anyone who could capture him?" Pepper asks, directing her words at Tony.

He rolls his neck, lips pursed, and works on expressing himself normally rather than shouting the Tower down. "No. It has to be related to Mikaela," he answers, his voice low and quiet.

"I don't know what to do," May says, her eyes filling with tears. "If they hurt him-"

"You're staying here," Tony cuts in quickly, firm. "Pepper, look after her."

"What are you going to do?" Pepper frowns.

Tony is already marching away. "It's about time some shit got done."

xxxxxxxxxx

Peter sits on the concrete floor with his back against the concrete wall. He is stiff and sore, but he barely realises it. He peers at Mikaela with grim, sad eyes, at a loss of what to do.

After she had said what she said, he had tried to reach out to her, had tried to convince her it was him, but she never looked at him again and she never spoke.

He doesn't want to give up on her, not when he's come so far that she's actually _there_ in front of him. But how can he convince her that he's real?

He observes her hopelessly, looking at the way she leans her head back against the wall, staring into nothingness. She sits on a bed without a pillow or duvet, the mattress stained with blood. She isn't wearing any shoes, and he can see more blood on her feet, but he isn't sure if it's because they've been injured too or if it's just blood from another wound.

Mikaela has been tortured.

There is no other word for it, no other explanation. Her father has been _hurting_ her, trying to wear her down to finally giving him what he wants.

And she's been gone for _twelve_ weeks. She has survived here, like this, for _twelve_ weeks.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. Mikaela doesn't stir. "I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner. I'm sorry we didn't find you. I'm sorry we weren't here to stop what he's been doing to you."

Peter lowers his head into his hands, feeling utterly dejected. He feels like this is all his fault. If he had just accepted what she'd done to protect him without complaint, maybe she wouldn't have been alone when they came for her. Maybe Peter could have protected her.

But he hadn't, and here she was, a broken shell, battered and beaten until her mind gave out on her.

"I'm sorry I didn't protect you the way you protected me. I'm sorry it took me so long to get over what you did for me. I'm sorry I didn't try to find you earlier."

The sound of his voice fades away into the suffocating silence of the concrete room. He can hear his steady breathing, his heart beating quietly in his chest, and Mikaela's ragged breathing through a probably-broken nose.

Then she speaks again, and Peter's heart soars only for a moment.

"Guilt," she scoffs, her voice low and scratchy and cracked. "That's a new tactic."

"What?" Peter frowns, desperate to hear her voice again and utterly confused.

"Usually you just nag," she mutters. Then her brow contorts tiredly. "You? Me? Whatever."

He leans forward, staring at her. "Mikaela it's _me_ ," he insists, pleading. "I swear on Aunt May's life!"

The corner of her mouth lifts in a dry, cold smirk. "Heard that one before." Then her face crumples and she lifts a hand to press against her forehead. "I'm humouring a delusion."

"You're not," he says, heartbroken beyond repair. "I'm _real_."

But Mikaela just eases herself onto her side, her back facing him, and curls into a ball.

xxxxxxxxxx

Tony barely bothers to slow his descent to the neat grass below his feet. He slams into it, bending his knees to make the landing easier, and lets his helmet slide away.

The kids around him gawp and stare and whisper to each other, but he pays them no mind. His metal feet move from grass to gravel to stone, and just when he lifts his hand to open the great doors, someone else beats him to it.

"Mr Stark," a red haired woman frowns. "Is everything okay?"

"The world better be ending with you making an entrance like that," a man behind her with a weird, metal strip over his eyes mutters. Tony recognises him as the mutant who protected his and Peter's cages when Magneto took them.

"Peter's gone now too," Tony snaps. "Where's your Professor? I wanna speak to him."

The woman looks reluctant. "I don't-"

"Listen, this isn't just 'mutant business' anymore," Tony interrupts, making quotation marks with his fingers. "Peter's human. And I'd bet it's Mikaela's dad who's got him too."

The two mutants share a concerned, troubled glance. Then the woman seems to argue something, and wins.

"Come in," she says, stepping aside to give him room.

"Do you need to wear the suit?" the man asks, remaining rooted to the spot.

"Scott," the woman says quietly.

Tony shrugs, his fury dipping for a moment to allow room for some respect. "Nah, it's fine," he says. The suit parts from his chest all the way down to his toes, and he steps out of it, not even conscious of his dishevelled state.

"I'm Tony, by the way," he says, a little grumpy still.

The woman smiles kindly at him, with only a hint of amusement. "Jean."

"Scott," the man grunts.

Jean closes the door behind Tony and then assumes the lead with Scott at her side, walking through the hallways at a brisk pace. Tony has only a fraction of space in his mind to pay attention to the school around him, to the multitude of kids and their mutations, to the awe mixed with fear on their faces. Somewhere inside he feels guilty for the crimes of his species against mutants.

They remain on the first floor of the mansion but travel many hallways, turning many corners, and finally they come to a gorgeous, old study, filled with ancient books and modern technology. Behind a massive desk sits the bald, ageless man Tony knows immediately to be the Professor.

"Mr Stark," the telepath greets, sober but still friendly.

Tony bows his head slightly. "Professor."

The man's face grows troubled. "I understand Peter Parker is now missing too?"

Tony's body clenches and unclenches, his feet moving impatiently back and forth. "Uh, yeah. He is."

"And you think Mikaela's father-"

"Without a doubt. I figure he's trying to coerce her into working for him and nothing's worked so far, so he's trying new tactics."

The Professor's forehead furrows. "I have been searching every day," he says regretfully, "And I have found nothing."

Tony rubs a hand on his face, his mind exhausted with the thinking and worrying he's been doing for the past twelve weeks. "Are you sure Magneto has nothing to do with it? Could he have, I don't know, given Mikaela's dad some tips or something?"

The Professor nods slowly and comes round his desk to approach the group. "It is highly likely that the barriers around her father and his trusted men are inspired by Erik's helmet," he muses.

"Can't you guys make a temporary truce and find out if he knows anything?"

"Erik is just as careful with his location as Mikaela's father - none of his followers will know the real place we could find Erik, and he rarely ever leaves himself vulnerable to my telepathy."

Tony is beyond agitated. He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, anger pumping through his veins. "Can't you get one of them to pass a message to him? Arrange a meeting between the two of you?"

"We could never trust Magneto's word," Scott cuts in. "The Professor can't just risk himself like that."

Tony looks over at the offending man, his eyes blazing with rage. "Fine. I'll talk to him then," he bites out.

"He would never agree to that," Jean says sympathetically.

"Yes, he would only speak with me, if he would speak at all," the Professor says. He meets Tony's desperate gaze with eyes of empathy and determination. "I will attempt to find Peter's mind and ascertain a location, and I will attempt to arrange a meeting with Erik in order to determine whether he has any useful information that could help us find the children."

"Professor-" Scott begins to protest.

"Mikaela would sell her soul to find us if any of us went missing," the Professor smiles fondly. "I would be honoured to return the sentiment."

Tony breathes a silent sigh of relief, some of the tension in his body relaxing. "Thanks."

"What are you going to do, in the meantime?" Jean asks him.

Tony's mouth twitches in a bitter smirk. "I'm gonna start squeezing."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Peter slowly returns to consciousness, his face contorting in pain, a low, groggy, grunt of protest sounding deep in his throat. His limbs are stiff and sore from his sleep on the concrete ground, and it takes several moments of slow movement to push himself up onto his feet. He stretches his arms above his head, yawning, and looks over at the bed across from him.

Mikaela is sitting up on the bed, facing his side of the room. One of her knees is pulled up towards her, the other stretched out in front of her. Her fingers absentmindedly trail along the scab of a cut on her shin, making Peter flinch with empathy despite the lack of discomfort on her face.

He finishes his stretch and moves a few steps towards her, remaining cautious and hesitant. "Morning," he tries, smiling awkwardly.

Mikaela makes a noise of impatience, but otherwise refuses to acknowledge him.

Peter puts his hands on his hips and frowns, disheartened. "If you felt me touch you, would you believe me then?" he asks, having not done so before because he almost felt like it would be taking advantage of her confusion.

After a moment of glaring at the door, Mikaela gives him a look that tells him she's had this conversation already and, no, she wouldn't believe him then. It makes his heart hurt, knowing she thinks he's not real, knowing she's gone through the process of finding out if he's just a delusion at least once already, but that time with an actual delusion.

Deflated once more, Peter walks to the wall on his left and leans against it, crossing his arms. On his journey here, he had been preparing himself to memorise everything about the place in case he could get a message out or find an escape route, but even though he found nothing of the sort, he doesn't think an escape would be as easy as it sounds.

Mikaela doesn't even think he's _real_ , why would she follow him if he told her he had a way to escape? He will have to find a way to make her see the truth before they can orchestrate something, which means he might be here for a while.

Mr Stark can search as much as he wants, but he wasn't getting anywhere before Peter left, so the chances of him finding them now…

The noise of keys rattling in the door distracts Peter from his thoughts and he stands up straight again, letting his arms drop to his sides. Archie pushes the door into the room and walks in with two paper plates, barely even glancing at Peter.

"You're late," Mikaela comments coldly.

"You're a stubborn little bitch," Archie retorts calmly. "We all have our flaws."

"Here's another of yours: you can't count," Mikaela says, nodding her head at the second plate.

"It's for your friend," he says, putting the plates on the ground next to her bed.

"You're encouraging a delusion," she smirks bitterly. "Lovely. Is it a new tactic or just your signature cruelty?"

He glares at her, but says nothing, and walks out of the room.

Peter walks over to the bed, watching Mikaela as she pushes herself forward, slides off the edge of the mattress, and down onto the floor. He sits nearby, making sure to keep his distance so he doesn't aggravate her, and looks at the meal.

It's a slice of bread with a slice of ham. That's it. One on each plate.

Peter looks at Mikaela and her weak body. He pushes his plate over to her. "You need this more than I do," he says gently.

She pulls the plate the rest of the way over to her without complaint or thanks, probably thinking she doesn't need to thank a figment or her own imagination.

"I didn't think your dad would come so far into the room," Peter muses. "I could probably overpower him and get us out."

"Mm, I'm sure," Mikaela mumbles sarcastically through her food.

"If I got him down and the door was open wide for us, would you come with me?"

Mikaela swallows her mouthful and stares down at the plate. For a moment he thinks she'll refuse to answer.

But then she says, "I've hallucinated an escape four times already, thanks to you. After every one I still wake up here." Then she lifts her eyes to look at him, and he sees just how exhausted she is. "You won't fool me so easily next time."

Peter feels utterly depressed. How on Earth can he help her if she won't _believe_ him?

xxxxxxxxxx

Wade yells as he slashes his katana downwards, jamming it into the junction between the man's neck and shoulder. He grunts and has to lift his foot to press against the now-limp body to free the blade again, and when he turns to his next victim, he realises he has run out of them.

His chest heaves with enraged, ragged breaths, his skin tickles as his blood and the blood of his victims dribbles down under his suit, and his left pinky wobbles dangerously, attached to his hand by what seems like a mere thread of skin.

"Hey, Machete," a voice calls from above.

As soon as the suit lands on the ground, Wade springs at him. He doesn't care who it is, he just wants to tear them limb from limb for a little while - is that so much to ask?

The metal suit lifts an arm to block the katana launched at it, and the voice shouts soon afterwards, "What the shit, man?"

Wade collides with the metal, fingers scrabbling at the edges of the panels for some access. A guttural yell is tearing from his throat, but he is wildly unaware of it.

A heavy punch sends him flying from the suit onto the ground a few yards away, and Wade takes a moment to groan and figure out what way up is.

"What the hell are you doing?" a harsh voice demands angrily. "I thought we were on the same team!"

"I'm too cool to be on a team!" Wade yells.

When he tries to get up, a blast of _something_ explodes into the concrete next to him as a warning.

"Stay down, or I swear to God-"

Wade lets out another yell, full of frustration and anger. "I just wanna kill you!" he snaps, as if it's a reasonable pursuit.

"Shut up," the voice snaps back at him. "I'm trying to find Mikaela as much as you are, remember?"

Wade pauses for a moment, lifting his hand to stare at his dangling pinky. "Oh. Stark," he realises.

"Yeah, dipshit, it's me. Why the hell did you attack me?"

Wade sits up on the ground and watches Stark's helmet slide away to reveal a face scrunched in anger and confusion. "Sorry, I've been seeing red for a few hours. Or days. Or weeks. Not sure."

Stark just scoffs and leans a hand against the wall next to him. "Well, if you want more people to kill, I have an idea."

Wade cocks his head at the suited man, adrenaline leaking into his veins again.

"Figured we could start tracking down Archie's minions and get rid of them. Maybe it'd draw him out," Stark proposes.

"Ooo," Wade breathes, "That sounds delightful."

"We have another volunteer," Stark adds, somewhat carefully.

Out of the shadows steps a man. A big man. A big, muscly man. Wade swoons.

"My Wolvie," he cooes, clapping his hands together. The impact proves the last straw for his pinky, and it flies off his hand.

"Don't make me regret this," Logan's gruff voice mutters.

"Well, we're some kind of fucked up Three Musketeers, but it might just work," Wade muses, getting to his feet. "Let's chop off some balls," he growls.

xxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela tries not to look at him. _It_. The delusion.

Of all her delusions, this has been the most persistent, and it is proving to be too much of a challenge.

It always looks at her with those _eyes_ that look so bright and sad and real-

She squeezes her eyes shut and clenches her jaw, concentrating on the feeling of her teeth pressing against each other. The delusion isn't real, because it's a fucking _delusion_. She's had them before, she'll have them again, but as long as she remembers that they're delusions and nothing more, she'll retain a grasp of reality.

She breathes deeply, ignoring the ache in her chest that desperately _craves_ to give in to the delusion, and opens her eyes again.

The delusion, manifested in an image of Peter, remains in her peripheral vision as it has the past however many hours or days it's been. Sometimes he watches her miserably, sometimes he is determined to make her engage in conversation, and sometimes he sits with his head in his hands, staring at the floor. The delusion has assumed the latter position, silent and unobtrusive, the best of a bad bunch of options.

Mikaela strives to ignore it. She focuses on what she can feel, because she can still believe that, rather than what she can see and hear. She feels cold in this concrete box, and uncomfortable. She feels dull pain in the majority of her body. She feels an immeasurable _exhaustion_ from deep in her bones to the most untouched spaces of her mind.

She doesn't know how long she has been here. Her father has been feeding her at abnormal times, she came to realise early on, to achieve that loss of time. But she thinks every three days is when he takes her to the other room for some attempts at _persuasion_. That is the closest she has come to establishing a routine in this god forsaken place.

She has been through a separation from technology before, but back then it was because she literally could not connect to it, no matter how close to it she was. This is different. She has full use of her mutation, but she has been taken somewhere far out and away from anything she can link to, and it is proving less bearable than the torture. She has been forcibly cut off from everything and everyone she knows and she is certain that this is why she is suffering the delusions.

Her mind doesn't have technology to occupy itself with, and so it has resorted to tricking her into thinking Peter's with her, or Tony, or Wade, or a full-scale rescue is going down. If she was just enduring the physical torture, Mikaela knows she would be absolutely fine - she's suffered through her mind being ripped apart, she can handle some cuts and bruises. But _this_ torture, from within her own mind, is slowly threatening to unravel her.

It won't unravel her in a way that'll please her scumbag dad, but it'll mean she won't be of any use to _anyone_ anymore. Her reality is crumbling around her, and it frightens her more than anything else ever has. To think that she might see her friends again, but always be worrying that they aren't real and she never left this place - it doesn't seem like a life worth living.

"If I took your dad down," the delusion says quietly. "If I got us out of here, and took you back home-"

Mikaela scowls. " _Home_ ," she spits bitterly. "I don't have a home."

The delusion lifts its head and stares at her empathetically. She has to remind herself it isn't real. Her mind does _such_ a good job making them seem authentic.

"Maybe not a physical home," the delusion concedes. "But maybe your home isn't a place. Maybe it's a feeling, or a purpose, or who you surround yourself with."

Mikaela rolls her eyes and looks away from it. "I'm not going to pretend something said by a delusion is smart."

The delusion is quiet for a moment. Then it stands up and walks a few steps towards her. "If I got you back to New York, to Tony, to your mutant family," it pauses, watching her, and she can see the glistening moisture in its eyes. "Would you accept that it was real? That we were real?" It breathes quickly for a moment and takes another step forward. "That _I'm_ real?" it finishes, voice breaking.

Mikaela decides she can't look at it. If she does, she isn't certain she could withstand the emotion in its face.

 _It isn't real. Peter isn't here. He doesn't want anything to do with me anymore._

Mikaela feels her breath hitch. "Why do you do this?" she whispers brokenly to herself. "It's too much. It hurts too much."

The delusion approaches her and drops to its knees. She can see the tears filling its eyes, the way its face contorts in pure grief.

"Mikaela, _please_ ," it begs, " _Please_ believe me. I'm _here_ , I'm _real_."

Mikaela squeezes her eyes shut and lifts her hands to clutch her head. "Why him?" she whimpers, tears breaking through the barriers.

"Because I'm _here_ ," it insists.

She feels a sudden warmth on her forearm. It sends such a shock through her body that she opens her eyes again to stare at the delusion.

At _Peter_.

His eyes widen. Hope ignites like a fire in their bright depths. The corner of his mouth twitches in awe.

"Mikaela," he breathes.

Her heart soars.

Then all of a sudden it shatters into pieces.

She rips her arm from the delusion's grasp. "No," she snaps, turning away from those eyes that fill with tears again. The delusion moves backwards, dropping its head in defeat.

Mikaela takes shaky breaths and stands up, limping to the other side of the room. She closes her eyes and rubs her forehead, cursing herself for almost slipping into madness.

She can't let it happen again.

She won't.


	25. A Shadow of Hope

**Chapter Twenty-Five - A Shadow of Hope**

"We went to see the mutants," Peter says, his fingers picking at the hole in the floor in front of him.

He watches the movement of his limbs in a detached manner, his heavy heart suffocating any positive emotion. He doesn't know how long he's been here in this bunker now, but he knows it has been a week at least, and he has gotten no closer to convincing Mikaela he's real.

Every time he thinks about _that_ moment, when he wrapped his fingers around her forearm and she _felt_ him and he _felt_ her and she looked up at him properly for the first time and he thought he had finally gotten through to her, he feels like curling into a ball and giving in to depression and despair and letting the world move on from him. He had been _so_ close, he had touched her and felt such a _rush_ of emotion he's too scared to name, and then she had done what she thought was best and convinced herself once more that he was just a delusion and everything inside him shattered into a million little pieces.

She hasn't spoken to him or looked at him since then, and it's been _ages._ He feels such a comfort and gladness being so close to her once more, but in her attempt to protect herself from her own mind, she has rendered him utterly miserable. To have her ignoring him like this is torturing his soul, mind, and heart. He _craves_ her acknowledgement. He is _desperate_ for her voice and eyes, to feel her skin under his fingers again.

He wants to grab her and shake her until she looks at him the way she did that time, but to see that _pain_ on her face when she had to convince herself he wasn't real again was unbearable. He doesn't want to put her through that again, and the way to avoid it is to never make her almost believe his authenticity again. He is trapped.

Peter clears his throat and resumes picking at the floor. "We went to see the mutants," he repeats. "And they said the Professor would try searching for you and your dad's minds."

He pauses to tenderly run his fingers over his eyebrow. Archie had split it with a powerful punch a few days ago when Peter had snapped and attacked him. The man would have stood no chance against Peter normally, but Peter saw the distressed confusion on Mikaela's face and it made him hesitate. The wound has basically healed now, thanks to Peter's gifts, but his ego still hurts.

"We went to Wade as well," he continues. "He tried to see if anyone in the criminal world knew anything."

He removes his fingers from the cracked floor and leans back against the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest. He only manages a brief glance in Mikaela's direction, noticing her curled up on her mattress, before his heart aches too much and he looks at the ceiling instead.

"Obviously, no one had any luck. Your dad took a leaf out of Magneto's book and got some special metal that prevents telepaths from finding your mind, and no one in Wade's circles knew anything," Peter mutters, rubbing at his eyes. He sighs and sags against the wall, wondering if the spark of hope in his chest will last long enough to convince Mikaela. "Mr Stark found footage of your kidnapping," he continues, "It was easy because you weren't there, so it looked like the guys weren't chasing anything. He tracked the vans for a while but eventually lost them."

Mikaela sniffs on her bed and curls her limbs in closer to her. Peter forces himself to look over at her, acknowledging the recent wounds on her body. Archie had given him some water that was clearly laced with something since Peter woke up some time later to an empty room. About an hour passed before Mikaela was shoved, stumbling, back into the room with a freshly burst lip and broken wrist, along with multiple cuts. The next time Archie came into the room, Peter sprang on him with an untethered rage.

"Those were twelve long weeks," Peter says in an attempt to distract himself. "Time has never moved as slowly as that. Every minute of every day I waited for a message or something from you, or from someone else saying they'd found you safe and alive and they were bringing you back." He shakes his head, realising how _long_ ago that feels. "I'm glad I'm here. I really am. Even if you don't think I'm real, I'm so _glad_ you're right here with me, where I can see you."

His face crumples miserably as he looks at her compressed figure. "I missed you so much," he whispers. "I've missed people before, obviously. My parents. Uncle Ben." His heart clenches painfully. "But this was different. It was like how I missed Liz, for a while. But _so_ much worse." He blinks away tears, noticing the way her back tenses. "I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I think I have an idea."

Suddenly the door bursts open and Archie storms in, a fury like Peter's never seen on him before contorting his face. He glares at Mikaela's back for a moment, and then turns his blazing eyes on Peter.

Immediately, Peter stands up.

"I've had enough of this bullshit," Archie growls. Peter feels anticipation ignite his nerves. The man marches towards him and grabs a hold of his collar, pulling Peter up close to his face. "Your _friend_ has been interfering with my men," Archie spits. "I don't have time for difficult children anymore."

Mikaela slowly lifts her head and looks over her shoulder. Peter watches as her eyes land on Archie and his hands, and her forehead creases with intense confusion.

"You like this kid so much?" Archie asks, directing his words over his shoulder at his daughter. He lifts his other hand to wrap his fingers around Peter's neck. "Join me or I'll kill him."

Peter's hands grip Archie's wrists, suddenly realising how weak he's become due to lack of sleep and proper nutrition. He thinks he might _just_ be able to gather enough strength to put up a fight, but a part of him - perhaps driven mad by his imprisonment - wonders if this tactic will be the way to finally convince Mikaela.

Mikaela has sat up on her bed now, watching them with a tortured expression. Peter knows she doesn't understand what she's seeing. As far as he knows, she's never hallucinated her father before, so to see him interacting with what she thinks is her delusion of Peter is probably threatening her last grip on reality.

"What's it gonna be?" Archie demands harshly, his fingers tightening around Peter's neck. "You gonna work with me or are you gonna let your precious Peter _die_?"

"I don't understand," Mikaela says quietly. It is evident on her face that she wants to be defiant, to resist, but at the same time she looks pained and concerned, as if wondering "what if Peter _is_ real?"

Peter's anger spikes. Archie is making her confusion and distress worse. Peter doesn't want to use this tactic anymore.

He digs his fingers into Archie's wrists and tries to twist, watching the man's attention come back to him. Peter's face is hard with hatred, letting his rage fuel his body.

"Leave her alone," Peter bites out.

He kicks his foot towards Archie and feels it collide with the man's knee. Archie falters and grunts with pain, his knee buckling. When his fingers loosen, Peter increases the pressure on Archie's wrists, forcing him to let go or suffer broken limbs.

Peter jumps back and glares at the man struggling to right himself. "Haven't you put her through _enough_?" Peter demands furiously. "She will _never_ work for you, why won't you leave her alone?"

"She's my daughter!" Archie barks.

"Yeah, but that doesn't make her your property!" Peter retorts.

"She's still a kid. I'm technically still her guardian."

"Mr Stark's more of a dad to her than you ever-"

" _Don't_ talk to me about Stark!" Archie roars. "He's the reason my daughter is so distracted! He is the reason she forgot her purpose!"

"What purpose?" Peter exclaims in disbelief. "Making _you_ rich? That's not a life!"

"She doesn't deserve a _life_!" Archie shouts, spit flying from his mouth, eyes wild. "She's a _mutant_!"

Peter stumbles backwards as if Archie struck him. Then he feels his rage swell up like a tsunami inside him and he runs at the man.

He gets two steps before Archie reaches behind him and pulls out a gun. Peter skids to a halt, chest heaving, heart thumping. His glare _dares_ Archie to pull the trigger.

Archie smirks, bitter and cold and cruel.

The hairs on Peter's arms and the back of his neck stand up, and he prepares himself for the shot.

"Stop!"

Peter's gaze snaps to Mikaela and softens instantly. Hope bursts inside his chest and then falters when he sees Mikaela's conflicted expression.

Archie looks at her over his shoulder, still aiming his gun at Peter's chest.

Mikaela pushes herself off her mattress to stand up, one hand locked in her hair. "I don't care if he's a delusion," she mutters, eyes closed. "I can't watch that."

"He's not a delusion you pathetic runt," Archie growls. "Not even a month and your mind was breaking in here. You're _weak_. They _made_ you weak. I'm just helping you find your strength, if you'd fucking let me."

Mikaela frowns as if she's in pain. "He _is_ a delusion," she insists, almost pleadingly. "I don't know what that makes _you_ right now."

"It makes me fed up of your shit, Carolyn," Archie spits.

Mikaela's eyes open and she glares at him. "That's not my name. That's not who I am."

"Who are you then, huh?" Archie demands mockingly. "Just a little girl looking for a _family_. You'll never find one. You're too fucked up. _I'm_ all you have."

"No," Peter cuts in defiantly. "She has me. She has Mr Stark. She has every mutant she knows, and Wade and his girlfriend. She has my Aunt May. She has the rest of the Avengers. She has Pepper Potts, and Happy Hogan. She's not alone."

Mikaela's jaw clenches. "I am so _tired_ of being here," she groans. "I am so _tired_ of telling you _no_."

"Then tell me something else," Archie retorts.

"Go fuck yourself, you fat, old, greasy mess of a man," she hisses.

Archie swings the gun round to aim at her. Peter immediately moves, ready to throw himself between them, striving desperately to ignore the look of satisfaction and relief on Mikaela's face - she _wants_ him to shoot her, she wants this all to end.

An explosion rocks the building. Peter stumbles and nearly falls. Mikaela sinks onto the mattress behind her. Archie falls forward onto a knee.

Peter is solely focused on the gun aimed at Mikaela. He doesn't care about the explosion. He kicks his foot out again and manages to dislodge the gun from Archie's fingers. The man gets to his feet and backhands Peter hard, sending him to the ground.

When Peter sees him go for the gun again, he scrambles forward and grabs Archie's leg, pulling hard to trip him up. Archie falls forward and catches himself on his hands, but his chin hits the concrete and he grunts with pain. Peter tries to crawl past him, but Archie lifts his foot and kicks Peter in the face, splitting his lip.

When they both regain focus on the gun, they find it in Mikaela's hand. She stares at it as if confused to how it got there, her eyes moving over the weapon slowly.

"Carolyn," Archie says calmly.

Mikaela looks down at him on the ground. "What?"

"Give me the gun."

She looks at the gun again. Then she adjusts its position so that she holds it properly, aimed at Archie's head.

"I could give you a bullet, if you'd like," she whispers.

Peter's ears pick up footfalls and he looks to the doorway with anticipation, remembering the explosion. His hopes are dashed when two unfamiliar men jog in, both carrying guns of their own.

Immediately they aim at Mikaela.

Archie holds up a hand to make them pause. "This is your last chance, Carolyn. You know who you are. You can't run from it anymore. You're a _criminal_. You belong with me."

"Are you banking on Stockholm Syndrome or something?" she asks with a breathless, flat chuckle. "I don't really know where I belong, but I at least know it's nowhere near you."

 _It's with me_ , Peter thinks, _with us_.

"Do you really want to die?" Archie snaps.

"Do _you_?" Mikaela retorts.

Peter sees the shake in her hands. He sees the effort it's taking to keep the gun in the air. He sees the exhaustion in her body, the dwindling time she can keep up this show of resistance.

Somewhere in the bunker, Peter hears a yell.

" _Mikaela!_ "

It is demanding and desperate and enraged and so familiar it makes Peter well up.

"You kill her, you won't make it out of here," Peter says. "Your life will be pain and suffering and you'll regret ever finding her again." He isn't familiar with this kind of talk, with threatening people, but this is _Mikaela_ and she is in danger and he thinks he'd do anything right now to protect her.

"Kid's smart."

Peter's head snaps round. He never thought he'd be happy to see the red and black suit.

The two men turn to face him, but Wade cuts through them both in an instant. There are loud crashing noises before the Iron Man suit bursts into the room so quickly he takes out part of the concrete doorframe with his shoulder.

"Pete," Mr Stark's voice sounds from the helmet, relieved. Then his head turns and his movements stop abruptly. "Ghostie," he whispers, emotion clogging his quiet voice.

Wade is crying dramatically underneath his mask. "My little Cupcake," he cooes, reaching blood-soaked gloves towards her.

Peter pushes himself to his feet and holds out a hand to stop them. His attention returns to Mikaela, unsurprised by the look on her face. He has never seen her so strained.

"Mikaela," Peter says quietly. _Finally,_ for the first time since the incident, she meets his gaze. He can see her reluctance, her desperation, her denial. "You don't have to believe me, if you don't want to," he murmurs gently. He takes a few steps forward, knowing Archie won't succeed in any moves against him now that Wade and Mr Stark are there. He is completely unbothered by the fact that she's still clutching the gun. "All you need to do is come with us. You can continue to believe it's a delusion, and if it is, then you won't be surprised when you come back here," he says, hating the words coming out of his mouth. " _Or_ , you can believe it's a delusion, and we can help you see that it isn't, with time."

"I can't let myself believe," she whispers, broken.

"I know," he smiles gently, stepping closer again. He hasn't been this close since he touched her. "That's okay. I'll wait for as long as you need. I won't force it."

Slowly, she nods. "Okay."

He reaches out his hand, not expecting anything, but trying anyway.

She looks torn. "I can't," she shakes her head, eyes glistening.

He smiles again. "I get it."

There is a sudden movement as Wade lurches forward to kick Archie in the face, knocking the man over onto his back, shouting incoherently as he cradles a broken nose.

"Why isn't there an emotional reunion happening right now?" the mercenary demands, putting his hands on his hips.

Mr Stark stands silently by the doorway, head directed towards Mikaela.

"Mikaela's mind has been playing tricks on her for a while," Peter explains. "She thinks I'm a delusion, and she's hallucinated rescues before. It's gonna take her some time."

Mr Stark takes a step forward and then stops. "She'll come with us though?" he asks quietly.

Peter nods.

Mr Stark nods back. "Okay. There's a quinjet outside."

"What about him?" Peter asks, gesturing at Archie.

"Your aunt wants him imprisoned," Mr Stark replies distractedly, now looking down at the groaning man.

"I want him flayed," Wade muses.

"I'm inclined to agree."

"Fuck off," Archie spits through blood.

"What?" Mr Stark demands, moving closer and titling his head, his suit fingers twitching.

"She doesn't belong with you," Archie's voice replies, haggard and strained.

Mr Stark crouches next to the man. "I've met a lot of pricks in my line of work, but you are by _far_ the worst," he mutters darkly. "You don't, have never, and will never deserve her. She is _nothing_ like you. She is her own person, and she has thrived without you. You shouldn't have been her father, she deserves better than that. She deserves someone who understands her, who doesn't want to control her, someone who loves her."

"And that's you?" Archie scoffs.

Mr Stark straightens up again. He looks over at Mikaela. "Maybe it is."

Peter smiles.

Mikaela looks conflicted between love and detachment.

"We need to get her out of here," Peter says. "This is getting too much."

"Hey, Cupcake," Wade says, so gently it surprises Peter. "If this was real, what would you want us to do with him?"

Mikaela looks down at the gun in her hand. After a moment's consideration, she lays it on her mattress. Then she looks up at Wade almost shyly. "I wouldn't care. As long as I never saw him again," she says.

Peter holds an arm out to his side as an invitation for her to walk that way, giving her a gentle, patient, understanding look. "C'mon," he says.

Mikaela nods and limps past him, making sure to not get too close to him. They walk around Archie's feet and past Mr Stark, his blue eye slits following them the whole way, and then they leave the room.

Peter takes a moment to remember the way Archie took him to this room, working backwards to find the way out. He isn't bothered by the small fires and blood-splattered walls. He isn't bothered by the shattered concrete or the lifeless bodies under their feet. He just walks along the hallways, glancing back every so often to make sure Mikaela's still behind him.

He stops when he hears heavy footsteps, looking down a particular hallway at their side. Under a flickering light emerges a large, muscular man with three knives protruding from his knuckles. He wears a leather jacket with a bloodstained white tank top underneath.

"Hey, kid," Logan says gruffly.

"Mikaela's a bit out of it," Peter says. "She's had to convince herself none of us or this is real to protect herself."

Logan stops a few feet away, scowling. He appears perplexed, but he nods nonetheless. "I'll take you to the jet," he says, gesturing with his head towards the way Peter was already heading.

"Thanks," Peter says.

The three of them leave the bunker together, Peter and Mikaela squinting at the bright sunlight that greets them. Peter takes a deep breath of fresh air, utterly relieved to finally be outside again - and, better yet, with Mikaela.

He stops when he sees the quinjet, overcome with gratitude and disbelief. He can't believe they're finally _out_ and away from Archie and his brutality. He turns to look at Mikaela, who has wrapped her arms around herself, frowning at their surroundings. Peter smiles despite their situation, his heart swelling with emotion.

"Take as long as you need," he tells her sincerely. "If it takes weeks or months, I don't care. I'm going to be there with you the whole time, helping you."

Mikaela's face softens when she looks at him, but he knows she doesn't believe him yet. She steps closer to him, sadness in her eyes. "I miss you," she says quietly. "I want nothing more than to believe you're real."

Peter feels his eyes sting. "Let's get you somewhere safe first."

When Mr Stark and Wade finally join them on the quinjet, Peter learns from a quiet conversation that they've called in some military contacts of Mr Stark's to detain Archie in a prison called The Raft, where he'll stay for the rest of his life. Peter also learns that Wade "couldn't help himself" and "just had to" chop off Archie's right hand.

The four of them spread out on the seats either side of the quinjet, while Mikaela moves over to a corner where she can hunker down out of the way. Eventually, her eyes fall closed and she drifts into unconsciousness.

Peter moves to drape a blanket over her, then returns to his seat, sighing. The action is drenched in exhaustion, relief, misery, and confusion.

Mr Stark sits across from him, out of his suit. He leans his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, head bowed. "I know you're tired, Pete," he says, "But I really need to know what happened."

Peter nods understandingly and begins his story. "I was coming home from my patrol one night when a bunch of guys surrounded me. I was gonna fight them, but then they said they had Mikaela and if I surrendered they'd take me to her, so I did what they said, and they did what they said. I got passed over to Archie and he took me to the bunker. He said it was Magneto's?" Peter pauses, still a little unconvinced, but Mr Stark and Logan nod in agreement. "Then he took me to Mikaela and," Peter falters, remembering the moment vividly. "She took one look at me and said I wasn't me."

"What do you mean?" Mr Stark asks, frowning.

Peter shrugs. "I learned that she had been having delusions long before I got there, ones of me, and you guys too, so she didn't believe it was really me. There was one time.. I got close. She almost believed. But staying convinced that I was a delusion was - and is - the only thing keeping her attached to reality, in her mind."

"And her dad?" Mr Stark asks.

Peter rubs his hands together, feeling hatred burning in his chest. "He's a monster," he mutters. "When I got there, Mikaela was beaten and bruised and her mattress was stained with blood. He'd obviously been beating her for a while, probably since she'd got there."

"Did he do anything while you were there?" Mr Stark forces out, face hard.

Peter falls back against the wall of the quinjet, running a hand down his face. Shame and guilt well up inside him, his face growing hot with it. "He drugged me, or something," he mumbles, unable to look at his audience. "When I woke up she was gone. When she came back," he trails off, a pained expression falling on his face.

Mr Stark shifts and Wade kicks at a nearby box. "I should have gutted the bastard," Wade hisses.

Mr Stark tries to compose himself. "Do you know what he used to drug you?" he asks.

Peter shakes his head. "He gave me a glass of water and I was thirsty. I shouldn't have drank it."

"It's not your fault, kid," Logan speaks up.

"We'll have to get you looked at when we get back, make sure it's out of your system," Mr Stark says. "That and your injuries too. Did Archie do that?"

Peter nods. "He never took me out of the room like he did with Mikaela. But I tried taking him down after he brought her back in that state and he got the better of me, and then we fought just before you guys showed up."

"How'd he get the better of you?" Wade asks, head cocking to the side.

"I mean, he wouldn't have _normally_ ," Peter replies defensively. He glances at Mikaela's sleeping form. "But seeing me and Archie fighting was making Mikaela even more confused and I didn't want to put her through anything unnecessarily distressing, and I hesitated, and he got me."

"Man, you're a good kid, aren't you?" Wade asks rhetorically.

"Yeah, he is," Mr Stark nods, giving Peter an attempt at a smile.

Peter's ego doesn't even react, because Mikaela makes a small noise in her sleep and he can concentrate on nothing else. He watches her face, wondering if he should go over and wake her up, but her body relaxes and her face softens, and Peter's heart swells at her peaceful expression.

"I guess you two won't have had a chance to talk things out in there?" Mr Stark says.

Peter turns his attention back to him and quickly realises he's smiling. "Uh, yeah, no, not really," Peter stumbles, embarrassed.

Mr Stark doesn't even try to hide his smirk, which makes Peter feel worse. "Delusion or not," the man says, tone softening, "She'll have weirdly enjoyed your time together." His smile is a little amused, but a little sad too.

Peter sits back, feeling his own exhaustion threatening to overwhelm. "How's May?" he asks.

Mr Stark smiles. "She was almost getting on this jet herself. It was difficult to convince her otherwise."

Peter lets out a chuckle, touched and amused and completely unsurprised. "She'll have been mad with me," he says, still smiling. "I told her I'd be smart, and then I let myself get kidnapped."

"She was more worried than mad," Mr Stark says. "She really missed you."

Peter softens. "I missed her too."

"You look exhausted, kid. Maybe you should get some rest," Logan grunts, standing up and walking to the front of the jet.

"Good call," Mr Stark sighs. He moves seats to a position closer to Mikaela, where he can watch over her.

Peter, still in disbelief about their rescue, nods and lies down along the seats, taking one last look at Mikaela before he closes his eyes. He lets the knowledge of their escape calm the nerves that have been on edge for over a week, just realising the toll it has taken on him. The spark of hope which survived all that time flares inside him, and he knows for certain that one day Mikaela will finally be back with them.

He can't wait for that day.

xxxxxxxx

"Peter!"

Mikaela hears the choked sob and watches as delusion-Peter grins widely, hurrying down the ramp. She pushes herself up onto her feet, catching a glimpse of delusion-Peter embracing a delusion she hasn't seen before - a delusion-May. The fact that she's never hallucinated May before threatens to destabilise her perspective of reality, but she reminds herself that it's just her mind working against her, trying new tactics to trick her.

Delusion-Wade and delusion-Logan follow soon after, walking down the ramp into the hanger. Delusion-Tony stands back, watching the interactions distractedly. Mikaela glances at him, unsure of where her hallucination will take her next.

"I think we gotta let May have some time with Peter," Tony says, clearly uncomfortable. "Which means he won't be with you for a little while."

Mikaela glances again at Peter, feeling almost relieved that she won't have to be fighting against herself about him for a while.

"Uh, I'm gonna hang around for a bit though," Tony continues, awkward and quiet. "If that's alright?"

It takes a moment for Mikaela to realise it's a question. She looks up at the delusion of her father figure, her heart breaking as it does every time she looks at him. The delusion of Peter hurts her, but the delusion of Tony hurts in a different way. She wishes with everything she has that he was really here, to hug her close and tell her everything's okay.

"Yeah," she answers, nodding her head numbly.

Part of her regrets letting this hallucination play out. The other part of her pretends she's doing it because it brings some comfort, while ignoring the question buried deep inside her mind, wondering whether it might _actually_ be real.

Tony goes to put his hand on her shoulder, but she shies away. She struggles to think nothing of the hurt on his face. "It's a little too real when I think I can feel it," she explains, despite the redundancy of it. "I don't want it to feel real. My grip's too loose as it is."

Tony looks pained, but nods and says nothing. He leads her down the ramp and off to the side, waving off May and Pepper's concerned gazes. He takes her down some back hallways, clearing his throat every so often and glancing at her. She's never seen him so timid. Usually he does the old humour coping mechanism thing that the real him resorts to.

The hallways lead to a part of the building that seems to be filled only with bedrooms. Most seem to be occupied by whoever lives in this building, but when they move further along, the bedrooms slowly become less personal and more hotel-like, as if waiting for someone to claim them and make them their own.

Tony takes her to one at the very end and opens the door, letting her in before him. Mikaela looks around at the room, at the double bed against the right wall and the desks along the left wall. The desks support five monitors which currently display a screensaver that makes Mikaela falter - a cartoon ghost floating in the centre, more cute than spooky.

"I set this up for you as soon as we made the facility," Tony says behind her. "Just in case you ever wanted to hang out with the Avengers."

She looks at him over her shoulder. "It's nice."

Tony forces a smile. "There's not really anyone left here to hang out with now."

Mikaela shrugs and looks away from him, knowing her mind won't keep this hallucination up forever anyway. Eventually, her father will start up the next round of persuasion, and the pain will bring it all back again. All she has to do is wait.

"I'm gonna call a doctor down here," Tony says to her, moving to an armchair at the wall opposite. "We need to get your injuries looked at as soon as possible. I can't let you limp around like this any longer."

Mikaela nods and moves to sit on the bed. "Okay."

Time passes incomprehensibly as Mikaela is checked over and treated for several of her wounds. She sits motionlessly for the most part, letting it all wash over her. Delusion-Tony never leaves the room, even going so far as turning off his phone and telling FRIDAY that he doesn't want to be disturbed by anyone. The doctor leaves and comes back, sometimes alone, sometimes with a second person, bringing in different medicines and equipment.

Mikaela marvels at the quality of her hallucination. She feels the doctor's touch - having allowed that since the touch means nothing to her - and smells the medicines and feels the equipment and hears everything going on around her. She tastes the doctor's glove when she puts her fingers in to feel a cut on Mikaela's gum. It is the most elaborate hallucination she's ever had, and she struggles against questioning what that might mean.

She feels tired to her bones. Physically tired, mentally tired, and emotionally tired. She knows eventually she will return to reality, and the knowledge looms over her like a life-sentence. She doesn't know why her father has been so persistent in his attempts to "recruit" her, why he still insists on _persuading_ her when she continues to resist him. She just wants him to _stop_.

"She should make a full recovery, but it'll take time," she hears the doctor say.

"What about her mind?" Tony asks quietly.

"You'll need someone more qualified for that. I don't have much experience in psychology."

Tony nods and thanks the doctor, who gathers up all her equipment and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Tony stands staring at the closed door for a moment, looking as exhausted as Mikaela feels - she supposes that makes sense, since her tired mind made him.

"Tell me about your other rescues," Tony says hesitantly.

Mikaela stares at him blankly. "You know about them. You were there."

Tony comes to sit on the edge of her bed. "Humour me," he smiles, although it's more of a grimace.

Mikaela's gaze drops to the smooth sheets under her hands. She rubs her fingertips over them, wishing they were real. "I don't know," she mutters. "There were a few. Sometimes it was the X-Men, sometimes the Avengers, once just you and Peter. But you were always there."

"When did you come back to reality?"

Mikaela wonders if speaking so much to her hallucinations like they haven't been there this whole time is making it better or worse. "When the beatings came."

Tony's jaw clenches and his eyes blaze, but he directs his glare at his lap. His fists are clenched between his legs. "Mikaela, I am _so_ god damn sorry," he mutters. "I am _so_ sorry we didn't find you sooner. I'm sorry I made you leave the Tower that day. I-"

"Why do you say that?" Mikaela cuts in. Her exhaustion is taking its toll on her mind and her voice comes out flat and blunt. "I don't want an apology from everyone, but you keep making them apologise to me." She's speaking more to her mind than delusion-Tony, but right now he is the main representative of her mind. "I thought my delusions were supposed to act in a way that comforts me, not act authentically like the people."

Tony frowns at her. His mouth opens, but he says nothing.

"It's bad enough that you make me think I'm actually with him," she says, looking blankly into the air in front of her. "Now you have to have him acting in a way that makes me feel bad."

"Why do you feel bad?" he asks.

"You know why," she groans, rubbing her forehead.

Tony shifts on the bed, hands pressing against the sheets as he leans close to her, a look of sorrowful desperation on his face. "Ghostie, this is all _real_ , I'm _real_ , Pete's _real_ ," he pleads. "You're here with me now at the facility, you're _not_ still in that room. Your dad isn't going to come back to you. You're not going to suffer anymore at his hands. I _swear_ to God, Mikaela, this is _real_."

Mikaela looks at his face and the tears brimming in his eyes. She feels her own eyes sting and blinks slowly. "Either way I'm going insane," she whispers. Then she rolls onto her side and curls up, letting her exhaustion take over.

xxxxxxx

Tony stands in a conference room, feeling the eyes of the X-Men burning holes into his head. Most are seated around the table, the Professor in his wheelchair, but Logan stands in the back corner, rolling a cigar between his fingers distractedly.

"You said it was easier to get into her head when she's like this," Wade says to the Professor. "Can you not, like, _make_ her see that this is all real?"

Tony knows the answer before he even looks at the Professor's face. So far Wade hasn't proposed the _most_ helpful ideas, but he is clearly - and surprisingly - making an effort, after Tony told him he would only be allowed in the room if he behaved and contributed sensibly.

"That might not be a good idea," the Professor replies.

"Why?"

Jean leans forward onto the table, brushing some hair behind her ear. "One of the main causes of Mikaela's confusion stems from her unwilling separation from technopathy. So, if we were to ' _make_ ' her aware that this is reality, her mutation would need to be restored. _But_ , if I were to lose my telepathy for a significant amount of time, and then be suddenly and unexpectedly thrust back into it, while not even knowing it it were real or not, I'd probably not handle it well," she says, looking to the Professor to make sure that's what he meant.

"She said to me that her delusions usually ended when her dad started hurting her again, so if we just give her time and make sure she doesn't get hurt, I think she'll eventually come round," Tony says.

Wade stares at him, his hands on his hips. " _Eventually_?" he repeats, offended. "We can't leave her in this mindset until 'eventually' finally comes, it's driving her insane!"

"We have no idea what forcing her into accepting reality as it is would do to her," the Professor says calmly. "This is something Mikaela needs to come to accept on her own."

Wade groans in frustration. "Usually I would love for someone to go mad, but Mikaela's weird enough as it is."

"We can't do anything that might threaten her recovery," Tony says, avoiding everyone's eyes. "We just got her back. I can't lose her for good."

"She'll come around," Storm says. "It's Mikaela."

"Are you guys going to want to take her back?" Tony asks, his body rigid with defiance already.

Jean glances at the Professor. "We think it would be best for Mikaela to stay with you, here. Keep it consistent, welcoming, and relaxed, don't get impatient with her, and just.. be there for her."

Tony stares at her for a moment. "Yeah, of course," he finally says, processing their decision. "Thank you."

Scott shrugs. "I think it's obvious that her strongest attachments are to you and Peter, then maybe Wade. She should be with the people she loves most."

Tony goes to protest, feeling uncomfortable and somehow guilty, but the Professor smiles knowingly and speaks first. "Mikaela thinks we're too well behaved. She has more in common with you and Wade, and she enjoys Peter's company more than I would have expected. We are the same species, and I think once she mistook that for family, but she has found her _real_ family with you three."

Tony has to clear his throat and look away. These mutants really know how to hit emotions.

"Deep, man," Wade comments, adopting a surfer dude's accent and nodding slowly.

Having had the moment ruined, Tony wonders what kind of family it is that Mikaela has made for herself. A merchant of death turned superhero, a hyperactive, mentally unstable mercenary, and a teenage boy too optimistic to tolerate.

"You can visit but you're not staying here full-time," Tony tells Wade.

Wade scoffs. "As if I'd want to."

"Boss, she's waking up," FRIDAY announces into the room.

Tony's heart sinks. "Maybe today will be the day," he says flatly.

He bids the mutants farewell and leaves the conference room, making his way downstairs to the "super-quarters", as Peter dubbed them. He sighs as he slows to a stop outside Mikaela's room, raising a tired hand to knock on her door.

As always, she is silent for a moment. Then comes the cautious, "Yeah?" he hears every morning.

"Hey, kid," he says gently. "It's Tony. Can I come in?"

He waits for the moment of consideration, and then the soft, wary, "Okay."

He twists the handle and pushes the door open, walking into her room. The first thing he notices is the projection of the Scottish countryside on her window, then his eyes move to her condensed frame on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest.

"How are you today?" he asks, sitting on the chair opposite her.

Mikaela blinks at him then looks to the false window. She runs her fingers along a slowly-fading scab on her shin and frowns thoughtfully. "I don't know," she says.

Tony nods, having expected the reply. "Me neither." He follows her gaze and watches as a light rain falls over green hills, splattering against a narrow road winding through the scene. "Do you miss it?"

Mikaela rubs at a scar under her jaw. "I don't know."

Tony leans his elbows on his knees and dips his head, his body deflating with grief. "I miss you."


	26. A Different Approach

**Chapter Twenty-Six - A Different Approach**

Mikaela sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door.

She feels numb. She is exhausted from questioning everything, from wondering when she'll wake up from her nightmare disguised as a paradise, from _waiting_.

Delusion-Tony sits in the same chair he always does when she first "wakes up". She isn't sure if she actually sleeps to be able to wake up - she isn't even sure if real time is passing the same way it does in her delusion.

Usually, her delusions stop when her dad comes to unleash his latest attempts at persuasion. Usually, her dad comes to get her every three days or so. _Usually_.

Mikaela doesn't know how much time has actually passed since the start of this particular rescue delusion, but the delusion itself has consisted of nine days. Nine days and she hasn't come out of it yet.

She frowns and slips off the bed onto her feet. Quietly, she walks over to the door and opens it slowly, half-expecting to have the delusion ripped out from under her. But the door opens, and she stares out into the hallway, and her dad still doesn't appear.

"Why hasn't he come?" she mutters to herself.

"What does his absence tell you?" the hallucination of Tony asks, approaching her from the side like you would a terrified animal.

Mikaela's frown deepens. "Either he hasn't come because something's happened, or I'm just so deep in this shit I can't feel the pain anymore."

She looks down at her skin, at the multiple wounds slowly beginning to close up and heal. She reaches fingers up to feel her broken nose, surprised yet unsurprised by the recovery it's showing too.

No matter how elaborate the hallucination or how much she believed it, she would always snap back to reality when the pain started up again. She would look down and see a slash open up on her palm, and when she lifted her eyes again she'd be staring into her dad's cruel, relentless glare. But she has yet to develop any fresh wounds, yet to feel even the slightest physical discomfort, and she doesn't really know where that leaves her.

She has almost given in to the hallucination three times now. Part of her is screaming at her to believe them, to stop questioning them all, to let the hallucination become reality because surely it must be if it's going on this long? But another part of her, focused on nothing but self-preservation, argues it is too risky, she needs to ignore the first part and everyone around her, she needs to hunker down and wait for the hallucination to run its course.

She _is_ embarrassed by how little time it took for her hallucinations to start. Tony made it out of his capture with a little PTSD and a fresh, better outlook on life and his work, but Mikaela just lost all hope without her technopathy and allowed her mind to deteriorate to this mess. A third part of her is too embarrassed to consider this to be reality because of the nonsense she'll have been speaking if it is, and the idiocy she must have displayed, and the blatant obviousness of her weakness.

She's just so _tired_.

"Do you want to see something? I have something to show you," Tony says.

Mikaela shrugs. "Take the reins," she says quietly.

Tony leads her out of her bedroom doorway and up into the facility, using the quieter hallways and stairwells so to avoid people. They don't talk as they walk, but Mikaela imagines the silence would be comfortable if it were real. The people who do chance upon them give Tony a respectful greeting or nod, and give Mikaela an uncomfortable smile. Despite the fact that it's unhinged, her mind does an impressive job making up so many strangers.

She follows Tony into a small room with a desk and a TV screen on the wall. Mikaela hops up onto the desk and lets her legs dangle down, her feet swinging back and forth. Tony gives her a somewhat amused look before gesturing at the TV.

"Alright, FRIDAY. Roll the tape," he instructs.

Mikaela watches the screen. Her head cocks to the side, her eyebrows pulling in ever so slightly.

It is her father. He's wearing a bleak grey jumpsuit and his head is shaved and he's missing a hand, but it _is_ him.

"Your dad hasn't come because he is locked up where he can't hurt you anymore," Tony says.

It _does_ make sense that he's been imprisoned - she's sure nothing else would deter him from hurting her...

"He's in there for life, Ghostie. He won't ever hurt you again."

It would also explain the lack of new injuries...

"So," Tony says hesitantly, "What do you think?"

Mikaela watches her father pace in his small cell, her mind slow. "You really got him?" she asks quietly.

But then she looks at Tony and she recognises the hope and joy creeping in and she squeezes her eyes shut against it.

No.

She isn't here. She isn't back with Tony. Her father is still out there somewhere.

Mikaela slides off the desk, suddenly unsteady. Tony moves to help her but she holds up a hand to stop him. A headache blossoms in her temples and her fingers shake, but she stumbles out of the room and into the hallway.

She loses all sense of time and space for an incomprehensible moment, and then she comes back to herself and finds she is standing outside in the growing evening air.

Her heart is pounding in her chest and she feels lightheaded. A cold sweat coats her skin. She clutches at the material of her jumper in an attempt to stop her hands from shaking.

"Carolyn."

Everything stops.

She can't move, she can't think, she can't breathe.

"Is this real?"

Mikaela's head turns of its own accord.

Her father stands there, smirking.

"Well? Am I real?"

Mikaela can only stare at him, too exhausted to consider the question.

"Am I a delusion in real life, a delusion within a delusion, or a speck of reality in a delusion?" he muses, clearly enjoying her distress.

Mikaela lifts a hand to rub at her forehead. He has both hands again. She doesn't know what that means.

"Are you going to try persuade me again?" she mutters.

Archie shrugs. "Are you ready to join me?"

"It's not about being ready," Mikaela frowns with a mixture of pain and frustration. "I'm not going back to that life with you."

Archie rolls his eyes. "Why not? You think I'm the symbol of clarity in your life now. You think that once you see me again, you're back in real life, the delusion's over."

Mikaela lowers her head and presses the heels of her palms into her temples.

"As long as you stay here, with them, you'll never be sure of what's real. That'll drive you insane, Carolyn."

Mikaela squeezes her eyes shut.

"Come with me, and you won't spend your life wondering if you'll blink and wake up in that room again."

She feels so dizzy.

"Mikaela?"

She's so _god_ _damn_ tired.

"Hey, Mikaela?"

She just wants it to be over.

"You okay?"

Mikaela's eyes open slowly once she realises the voice doesn't belong to Archie. She lifts her gaze, finding no sign of her father. In his place stands Rhodes.

Mikaela breathes out shakily and lowers her trembling fingers from her head.

"I don't know what's real," she whispers, broken.

Rhodes watches her carefully, a hint of empathy in his face. "Is there anything I can do?"

Mikaela shifts on her feet, glancing around. "I don't know how to get back to the room."

He nods. "I can help with that. Would you like me to walk with you?"

Mikaela feels embarrassed but, more importantly, exhausted. She nods.

Rhodes makes a noticeable effort to not crowd her as he falls into step beside her, leading her back into the building. He doesn't speak either, which she is grateful for. She barely has the energy to stay functioning.

He stops in a hallway and Mikaela realises she is at the room Tony assigned her. She shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to do.

"I hope you come back to us soon," Rhodes says. "I mean, you're back, you're here," he mutters, scratching his chin with a sigh. "But you're not _back_."

Mikaela looks up at him, confusion swarming inside her mind. Her eyes sting with tears.

"I've never seen Tony like this," Rhodes says quietly, concern creasing his brow. "I hope for both of your sakes you come back soon. I don't know how long you guys can last like this."

And with that, he leaves her alone with her mind once more.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela sits with her back pressed against the wall, her legs spread lazily in front of her. She stares at the bottom of the couch sitting a couple metres away, contemplating its cleanness, as the room around her buzzes with quiet conversations. Somewhere, Tony, Pepper, and Peter are talking in a huddled group, sending her weird glances. In another place, Logan and Storm sit murmuring to each other, uncomfortable and out of place. Mikaela lets it all wash over her, uncaring.

Another two days have gone by, and she is no closer to understanding what reality is. Her father lurks on the fringes of her mind, materialising in her peripheral vision but disappearing when she tries to look at him. Sometimes she hears his voice in her head. She doesn't know what that means, but she thinks she might be resisting accepting him as reality - why else would the delusion be continuing?

"Boss, something's wrong," an Irish voice says warily.

Mikaela knows that there is an ongoing delusion in her mind and there is also a reality, but she can't seem to figure out which is which.

"What is it, FRIDAY?" Tony replies, tense.

She resists both being reality, she knows. She resists being back with her friends because giving in might mean giving in to a life of insanity, an untrue life, and leaving herself vulnerable.

"This guy's breaking through, I can't stop him."

But she resists Archie too, because what if _he's_ the delusion and she's preventing herself from feeling happy and safe ever again? What if this is all real and she is back where she wants to be? She can't just ignore the possibility.

"Oh no," Storm says quietly.

Logan's body lifts off the couch and flies through the air to slam against the wall opposite Mikaela.

She looks down at her scarred - but not wounded - palms. How can she possibly devise a way to distinguish reality from delusion that she can trust?

Tony calls upon his suits but metal bursts from the walls and catches his limbs individually, pinning him to the ground and preventing his technology from gaining access to him.

Mikaela goes through the options. She could try hurting herself to see if the pain would bring her back the way it used to - but what if she's too deep in the delusion now and the pain is simply not effective as a switch anymore?

Storm tries to put up a fight, but she is soon trapped as well.

Mikaela could also try to use her mutation, something she wouldn't have access to in her prison - but what if her delusion is so complex now that it can allow for that? What if her mind is ready to alter the delusion the way her mutation would affect reality?

Pepper is easily taken care of, but Peter is quicker, slippier. He escapes for a few moments, though ultimately is stopped by a big slab of metal, distracted as he is by Mikaela.

Mikaela rubs her forehead. At some point, she will have to accept one or the other as reality. But it is a huge decision, and there is so much at stake.

"I think you've had quite enough of feeling sorry for yourself."

Mikaela frowns. When she lifts her gaze, finally acknowledging the status of the room's inhabitants, she sees a man she did not expect.

He lifts a gloved hand, giving her a hard stare. "I will not tolerate any ramblings about your so-called delusion and why I would be in it."

Mikaela's frown deepens. She pushes her hands against the floor and brings her feet under herself, rising into a standing position with a hint of a shake in her limbs.

She really is surprised to see him.

And Pyro and the woman at his sides.

"John?" Mikaela asks, bewildered, remembering Pyro from her time at the school.

"Hey, Mick," he smirks.

Magneto gives him a look. "We are here to put an end to this nonsense."

"Erik-" Storm grunts out, but Magento lifts a hand and another strip of metal soars to cover her mouth.

"I come with good intentions," he says pointedly. "You may not have chosen my side, but we are all still mutants, and mutants are in danger across the world. They need you to be functioning properly."

Mikaela opens her mouth but nothing comes out. She has never hallucinated Magneto or Pyro before - she hardly knew Pyro before he switched sides.

Does this mean what's occurring around her is actually reality, or does it mean her mind is going to even greater lengths to trick her?

"I have heard that pain brings you out of your delusions," Magneto continues. He nods to Pyro, who pulls a zippo from his pocket and flicks the lid open. "Why don't we put that theory to the test?"

Pyro takes a step forward, but he watches Mikaela carefully, waiting for her permission. Magneto seems unbothered by the hesitation, which implies Pyro was meant to let her come to him, rather than him plain attacking her.

Mikaela's fingers twitch. She glances between Pyro's face and his zippo.

She takes a step forward.

"Mikaela!" Peter's voice blurts, riddled with concern and frustration.

"If you want your friend back I suggest you keep quiet," Magneto snaps impatiently.

Mikaela glances over at Peter, at the way his face is scrunched up in worry. She just wants to know what's real.

She turns back to Pyro and lifts her hand into the air, hovering it over his zippo with the palm facing downwards. Pyro checks one last time for any signs of her not wanting this, before lighting the zippo.

Mikaela immediately feels the heat of the flame. She takes a breath and lowers her hand slowly towards it, the heat building and building to an unbearable intensity. She feels her skin start to burn, but she remains stoic, staring at the top of her hand.

"Do you feel the pain yet?" Magneto asks.

Mikaela nods.

"And what do you see?"

Mikaela tries to look away from her hand, but she is scared. Her eyes squeeze closed, frowning as the pain burns brighter. Her heart thumps loudly in her chest as she prepares herself to open her eyes again.

She doesn't know where she'll be.

Wanting desperately for it all to be over, she snaps her eyes open, glancing erratically around her.

Her heart quietens and surprise slowly blossoms in her chest.

"One test complete," Magneto says, tapping Pyro's shoulder.

The boy flips his zippo shut and returns it to his pocket.

"Now for the next test - or, rather, _demonstration_ of your idiocy."

The woman walks forwards and clutches the sides of Mikaela's head before she can back away.

A foreign presence bursts into her consciousness and Mikaela wriggles with discomfort. The woman tightens her grip, but she is so strong in Mikaela's mind that the fight dies out of her quickly, replaced by confusion and fear.

And then it is as if the woman flicks a switch in Mikaela's mind.

Her connection to the technology around her bursts so suddenly and with such strength that she both sees and hears it. Information crashes into her from every direction, suffocating her mind. She feels lost in the middle of a tornado or tsunami, tossed around weightlessly by an unseen force, unable to find an anchor.

Her throat tears as she screams, falling to her knees. She feels things shatter and burst and disintegrate around her, but she is blinded and deafened by the force of her connection. Her fingers claw at her head, at the sheer _agony_ of her mind overloading, at the _noise_ of billions and trillions of data exploding in her consciousness.

"Mikaela!"

It is so faint she isn't sure she actually heard it.

" _Mikaela!_ "

She is aware of it under the relentless battery of her connection.

"Let me down! Let me down, asshole, _look_ at her!"

It is growing almost imperceptibly in strength, but she recognises that it feels better than the onslaught of information battering her mind, and she latches onto it.

"Oh, god, Mikaela."

It is quiet now, but closer and stronger.

"It's okay, you're okay. I'm here. I'm right here."

She is growing more aware of herself. She has stopped screaming. She is curled over herself, on her knees, her fingernails digging in to her scalp.

"Just focus on my voice. I'm right here."

Her breathing is ragged and insufficient. Her mind is loud and bright and rough. The hand on her cheek is warm and comforting.

"It's okay, you're safe. We've got you, Mikaela."

Her face is wet. Her head flares with pain. Her body is tense and stiff and sore. The hand on her cheek makes her feel calm, despite the chaos raging in her mind.

She lifts her head, slowly, painfully, and looks up into Peter's eyes. They are the brightest, clearest, most wonderful things she has ever seen. A sense of impenetrable safety washes over her, quieting the white noise in her mind.

She breathes slowly, feeling her body relax. "Hey, Pete," she mumbles.

Everything goes black.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela's limp body slouches into Peter's chest. His eyes go wide, hands flailing to support her body without placing them anywhere inappropriate. He cradles her against him, looking down at her pale, scarred face. His heart hammers loudly in his chest, his cheeks warm, his mind frozen.

"Hey, Pete," she had said. "Hey, Pete," as if the past four or five months hadn't happened. "Hey, Pete," as if everything was normal, as if she _knew_ it was really him. "Hey, Pete," as if he meant something to her, and she was relieved to see him.

His fingers grip her tightly, pulling her even closer to him. His forehead dips to press against the top of her hair. He's happy - he is so _immeasurably, uncontainably_ happy, so happy he thinks his chest might burst - but he is worried too, worried because she burned her hand, worried because she was screaming in pain and distress mere moments ago, worried because "Hey, Pete," might not mean what he so desperately hopes it does.

And he is angry.

"What did you do?" he bites out, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from Mikaela's calmed face to look up at Magneto.

"My associate reconnected Mikaela to her mutation. The absence of it drove her insane," the mutant replies flatly.

"We thought this approach was too dangerous," Logan growls.

"What other approach was there?" Magneto retorts.

"You better let the rest of us down now. We're not as defenseless as we look," Mr Stark threatens from across the room.

"Is that so?" Magneto mutters, uninterested.

"I held back reinforcements because I thought _maybe_ you were going to do something useful for once. You've done what you came here for, so let us down, or I'll let the dogs loose."

Peter ceases his glaring at Magneto and the woman who hurt Mikaela to look around the room. He sees Logan and Storm freed from their restraints, slipping back to the ground gracefully, as if practiced. He sees Mr Stark hurry to make sure Pepper is okay.

Peter looks down at Mikaela again. She is so warm and still in his arms. He never wants to let go.

"You better not have made things worse," Mr Stark comments in a tense voice as his footsteps approach Peter from behind.

"Typical humans: no gratitude when you have clearly solved their problems," Magneto says quietly.

"There were other ways you could have done this," Storm says.

Mr Stark crouches down next to Peter, reaching out a tentative hand to stroke some hair out of Mikaela's face.

"Would you have listened to me if I came to you first?" Magneto retorts.

"You know what?" Mr Stark says, standing up again. "I think you should leave so we can assess any damage you've caused here."

"I just gave you back your favourite toy," Magneto scowls. "Are you going to turn on me that quick?"

"Mikaela isn't a toy," Peter spits out, "And we don't know if you've even helped her."

Magneto raises an irritated eyebrow at him. "When she wakes up and wants to thank me for setting her straight, tell her I won't be hard to find."

He sends a lingering glare towards Logan and Storm, before twirling around and stalking out of the room. The boy who burned Mikaela's hand smirks at Peter, then nudges the woman who made Mikaela pass out with distress, and they both turn to follow their leader.

Peter focuses his attention back on Mikaela. His thumbs absently stroke her as he gazes down at her face, his eyes tracing the scars he had once found intimidating, but now finding himself smiling at their familiarity.

"Well, I didn't expect today to go like this," Logan comments.

"I hate that guy," Mr Stark mutters. "Does he always leave such a mess?"

Logans grunts an affirmative.

"Hey, Peter," Storm says softly, appearing in front of him. She kneels down, smiling, her hands in her lap. "Do you mind if I check her over?"

Peter realises just how much he has wrapped his arms around Mikaela's torso, how pressed into him she is.

"Oh, yeah, go ahead, sorry," he stumbles, embarrassed.

He slowly loosens his grip, pulling his arms back. They feel cold where they no longer touch Mikaela. He has her laid more flatly on his legs, but knows he should really place her down on the floor.

"It's okay," Storm stops him with a knowing smile. "You can keep her there, that's fine."

Peter nods wordlessly, but so very gratefully, and adjusts Mikaela so that he holds her more securely in this position. Storm leans in and feels Mikaela's pulse at her neck, timing it on her watch. Then she lifts Mikaela's eyelids, checking their reaction to the light she ignites in her own eyes, like grey clouds illuminated by internal lightening.

Storm leans back again, her face relaxing. "She seems fine, physically anyway," she says.

"I swear to God, if he's made her even more confused or-" Mr Stark says, agitated.

"Why don't we just wait for her to wake up, and _then_ we can react?" Pepper says, smiling fondly at her fiancé; but she puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Mr Stark groans. "I know. You're right, as always. C'mon, Pete, let's get her somewhere comfortable."

Peter watches Mr Stark kneel down next to Mikaela's body, can see in the man's face that he wants to hold her. Peter lets his grip go loose and he removes his hands from her, letting Mr Stark pick Mikaela up from Peter's lap and lift her into his arms.

He watches as she subconsciously leans into Mr Stark's chest and smiles in amusement.

"What?" Mr Stark asks, defensive.

Peter is too absorbed in Mikaela to worry about offending his mentor. "I'm just thinking about how much she'd hate us carrying her around if she was awake," he explains.

Mr Stark allows a smile of amusement too, glancing down at her. "Man, I hope she's back this time."


	27. Clarity

**So, Endgame huh.. Sheesh. In case anyone is wondering, I'm on the fence about including Infinity War and Endgame - I have ideas about what would happen with Mikaela but there are.. complications. Timespan complications. So, I just am not sure. BUT, this will continue either way for another few chapters yet! Don't even know what the end looks like or when it will come! So, enjoy!**

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven - Clarity**

Mikaela wakes with an itchy nose. She lifts her hand to scratch it, frowning at the discomfort of her palm. It dawns on her slowly that the discomfort is actually pain, that her palm is hurt, that she has a new wound.

Her mind clears instantly.

This is it. This is what she has been waiting for. The pain has started again, and now she will know for sure where she is.

She takes a deep breath, preparing to write-off the delusion she's been suffering for who knows how long. She feels the depression start to sink in again, the hopelessness, the longing.

She opens her eyes.

The ceiling is a calm grey, with modern lighting embedded in the tiles. It isn't concrete with a single hanging light that flickers relentlessly.

She shifts, realising that her bed has sheets, soft sheets, and a duvet and pillow too. It isn't just a thin mattress.

She lets her head drop to the side and sees a wall of fake windows, playing footage from the Scottish countryside. It isn't another concrete wall.

She lifts her injured hand into her eyeline, recognising a proper bandage around her palm. It hasn't been left to fester and become infected.

Sitting up in her bed, she retains her concentrated gaze on her palm. She finds the end of the bandage and rips it open, pulling the fabric away so she can look at her skin.

It's a burn. Nothing too damaging according to what the internet tells-

Mikaela's heart stops. Her eyes go wide.

The _internet_?

She brings her hand into her chest, staring at the line of monitors on the desk opposite her.

She feels like a baby taking its first steps, tentatively reaching out with her mind. She feels the lights above her, and she breathes steadily. They turn off and on again.

She lets out a breath sharply. She takes another mental step, moving to one of the monitors. It turns on immediately.

Her heart thumps in her chest. She feels like she is standing on the edge of a cliff, staring out into a rich expanse of information. Cautiously, she stretches, just a little bit, and clutches at the first nugget of data she finds: an encrypted email from one scientist to another in the Avengers facility, regarding the status of some new tech.

She pulls away from it all, returning to herself. She is breathing quickly, anxious, confused, and excited.

She takes a running leap off the cliff and floats into the expanse, closing her eyes to absorb all the data she comes across. She smiles brightly, recognising the feel of technology in her mind.

She isn't sure what has happened, but she is quite sure that she is _away_ from her father, and the thought exhilarates her.

She reels her mind in to the building around her, learning that she is on the ground floor of the Avengers facility and it is 3am. She infiltrates the CCTV recordings, wondering when she got here.

She scrolls to last night, and sees herself limp in Peter's arms at Magneto's feet. She pauses, a surge of emotions running through her.

Disbelief and embarrassment seem to reign, but there is also relief and something very strong and positive that thrums in her chest when she sees Peter clutching her body to him.

The door opens. Mikaela opens her eyes, turning to watch Tony enter the room, the light catching the bags under his eyes. He moves quietly, glancing at something on the floor, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands. He seems set on the armchair she thought always held a hallucination of him.

Her joy is unstoppable.

"Tony," she says. Her voice is small and weak, but she can hear the love and relief and longing in the word.

Clearly Tony can too. He turns to her, wide-eyed and stiff, disbelieving. Then he hurriedly puts down his mug and turns back to her. Mikaela is already halfway out of the bed, her arms reaching for him. He snatches her up and pulls her away from the duvet, one of his hands reaching up to hold her head into his shoulder.

"Oh my God," he breathes into her hair.

She clutches to him, her fingers digging into his clothing. She squeezes her eyes shut but the tears push through anyway.

"You're back?" he asks, voice strained with emotion. "Are you back?"

The question ignites an instinctual reaction in her. She feels an urge to close herself off again, zip herself up, distance herself from a delusion.

But she doesn't have the energy anymore, and she really thinks this might actually be _real_.

"I'm back," she says, her voice muffled in his shoulder.

"Mr Stark?" a groggy voice asks. "Wait, Mr Stark?" it repeats, clearing up as realisation dawns on the speaker.

Mikaela lifts her head and looks down at the floor, where Peter is propping himself up on an air bed. His eyes go wide when she meets his gaze, giving him a watery smile as her heart surges.

"Oh my God, Mikaela," he says, awed, as he stands up.

"Hey, Pete," she replies.

Peter takes a step forward, a hand reaching out. Tony loosens his grip on Mikaela so she slips down to the floor again and steps out of the way.

Peter's next steps are rushed. His body hits hers and he wraps his arms around her waist, her own threading round his neck of their own accord. She hugs him desperately, and he squeezes her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder and neck. Nothing has ever felt so warm and inviting.

She breathes him in, relishing in their closeness after spending so long apart. She has _missed_ him terribly and finally she has been reunited with him.

"Oh my God," he mutters again. "Oh, man, I can't believe you're back."

They pull apart somewhat, retaining grips on each other's waist and shoulders. Peter's eyes glimmer with tears, but his smile is bright and _beautiful_.

"You're back," he repeats.

Mikaela smiles, nodding, as more tears slip down her cheeks. "I'm sorry I took so long," she says, as the embarrassment starts to kick in.

Peter just shakes his head with a laugh of disbelief and pulls her into him again. "Oh my God, I missed you," he breathes.

"I missed you too," she admits quietly.

Suddenly he pulls back with a wordless exclamation, dropping his hands to pick up her injured one.

"Ah, shit, I forgot, are you okay?" he rushes.

Mikaela's heart surges again. "Peter," she says, drawing his attention back to her face. "I'm back," she answers, shrugging.

He grins, covering her hand with his.

"Mikaela," a kind voice says happily.

Mikaela turns to see Jean and Xavier coming in through the door, Tony waiting impatiently behind them.

"They wanted to see you when you woke up," Tony explains.

Mikaela feels guilty - she had been so caught up in Peter that she hadn't noticed Tony leave the room. She decides not to pay that experience much attention at the moment, she can decipher it later.

"Jean, Charles," she greets, grinning.

Jean envelopes her in an almost motherly hug, breathing a sigh of relief. "It's so good to see you back," the woman smiles after.

Xavier reaches out a hand for Mikaela to hold and smiles up at her. "Welcome back. I'm sorry about the method, but I'm glad for the result."

Mikaela winces at the memory triggered by his words. "Yeah, that was intense," she says, rubbing her forehead. The pain had been almost as bad as when Ultron had ripped her to shreds.

"Jean and I just wanted to make sure that you're okay, and see if we can manage an internal check-up?"

"Oh, yeah," Mikaela nods, hiding her reluctance to have people in her head after all of the turmoil she's went through.

Regardless, she sits down on the edge of her bed and they move towards her, Peter and Tony giving them space.

Mikaela takes a deep breath and disconnects from the technology around her. She clasps her hands together to stop her fidgeting and glances over at Tony. He gives her a comforting smile, his eyes understanding, and for the first time she is happy to have someone know her so well.

She closes her eyes and tries to relax her body.

It surprisingly doesn't take Xavier long to get into her mind. His touch on her thoughts is soft and caring, unlike the woman from last night, and Mikaela breathes a sigh of relief.

" _Have you made a decision_?" Xavier asks telepathically.

" _Yes_ ," Mikaela thinks to him. " _I've decided to accept this as reality. I've woken up with a fresh wound, but I've woken up here, and that means something_."

" _I am very relieved to hear that_ ," he replies, and she can feel his sincerity emanating from him.

She lets him sift through her memories of her imprisonment, her delusions, and her apparently-real rescue. Then he tentatively goes through her memory of last night, pulling back from the pain when the woman reconnected Mikaela's mutation.

The thing that stands out most to Mikaela - and she knows Xavier will have noticed it too - is how much Peter features in these memories. She hallucinated him the most, thought about him the most, and the strength of her fondness for him is unmistakable. She can't believe she ever used to hate him.

She feels amusement from Xavier and instantly attempts to clear her mind, but it is clouded with embarrassment now.

" _It is nothing to be ashamed of, Mikaela_ ," Xavier says.

" _What is_?" she retorts defensively, feeling her own stubbornness radiating from her.

" _I didn't mean to embarrass you_ ," he says. " _We all know what it's like to fall_ -"

Mikaela's eyes snap open. "How do I seem?" she asks out loud, blocking out Xavier's words.

He looks at her with a hint of sympathy, but answers her question. "Everything seems fine. Your connection to your mutation is no more damaged than it was before you were taken. Although, it hasn't mended any either."

"Probably because she had been cut off from it for so long," Jean says.

Xavier nods in agreement. "I really am so glad to see you back to yourself again, Mikaela," he says. "Come by the school if you can soon, the others would love to see you."

He moves to leave the room, Tony escorting him out. Peter moves towards the door as if unsure whether he should leave too, glancing back at Mikaela.

Jean appears in Mikaela's eyesight then, smiling knowingly. "He's a good kid," she says.

Mikaela knows instantly that Jean was kiddybacking on Xavier's investigation. "Eh, yeah, he is," Mikaela replies dumbly.

She hates feeling embarrassed.

"He was really worried about you, you know," Jean continues.

Mikaela feels her heart lift but she struggles to maintain a neutral expression. "He's a worrier," she shrugs, smiling politely.

Jean quirks an eyebrow. "Okay, then," she muses, "Play the denial card. But one of you will have to own up to it at some point."

Mikaela frowns after her as Jean leaves the room, following Xavier and Tony.

"You okay?" Peter asks.

Mikaela switches her gaze to him, standing awkwardly by the door.

"Do you, uh, want me to go too?" he asks, scratching his neck.

Her heart lurches at the thought and she shakes her head before she realises what she's doing. Peter takes a breath, nodding, and drops his gaze to the floor while he walks over. He sits down next to her on her bed, leaving a few inches between them.

Mikaela frowns at her lap, her mind processing everything that has happened and what it all means.

"How long has this been going on for?" she asks quietly.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"I mean, when did anyone find me?"

"Uh," he mumbles, his hands fidgeting in his lap, "Do you remember when your dad brought me to where he was keeping you and you said I wasn't me?"

Mikaela frowns, following her most recent memories backwards. She goes further into the past than she'd like - she really wishes he'd said yesterday - before she remembers what he's described.

"Oh," she says lamely.

They sit silently for a moment, Mikaela feeling utterly awkward and embarrassed. She can't believe he had seen her like that for so long.

"Sorry for not realising the truth earlier," she says. "I'm not proud of the state I was in. I said a whole bunch of things too," she trails off, mortified.

"No, I'm sorry I couldn't get through to you sooner. I just had no idea what to do or say to bring you back," he replies. After a moment, he continues. "And I'm sorry I took so long to come looking for you. I should never have avoided you after that day. That was-"

"No, I totally understood," Mikaela says quickly, not wanting him to blame himself. "You're not used to that kind of thing."

"I've only seen a dead body once before," he shrugs, looking down.

Mikaela feels like an idiot. "And I _shot_ him, oh my God, Peter, I'm so sorry. I didn't think. I should've-"

"No, it's okay," he protests sincerely, shaking his head and meeting her gaze again. "Honestly, that didn't have anything to do with me not talking to you. It wasn't the way you did it, it was just that you did it at all," he explains. Then, quickly, "But that's fine too, I'm over that, I know I made a big deal out of it, that was stupid."

Mikaela rubs her forehead and closes her eyes.

"You okay?" Peter asks gently. "Sorry, I shouldn't be rambling."

"It's not you, Pete," she says, smiling despite her ailments. Driven by his caring nature, she turns and leans her forehead against his shoulder. "I'm just exhausted."

Peter sits awkwardly for a moment, but then he slowly threads his hand behind her back to hold her opposite shoulder. His thumb starts to stroke her, moving the material of her t-shirt back and forth.

"I spent so long fighting against myself to make sure I didn't fall for a delusion. And then you came, the real you, and I knew something was different, but I convinced myself that it was just my mind working harder against me, because I didn't want to believe it in case you weren't real," Mikaela says quietly. "That day that you touched my arm.."

Peter swallows. "I knew I'd almost gotten through to you," he says, just as quiet. "I wanted to try it again but I could see how much it was stressing you out and confusing you and I didn't want to make it worse."

Mikaela smiles. "Thank you." She lifts her head to look at him. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Peter looks a little distracted or something. His smile is loose and almost dreamy. "Of course I didn't," he says softly.

He really does have the most beautiful eyes.

"That's the mutants gone," Tony's voice announces loudly.

Peter jumps and Mikaela's mind instantly goes on the defensive, but she calms down when she sees Tony walk in. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as he glances between them.

"Thanks for letting them come over," Mikaela blurts, unreasonably and inexplicably embarrassed again.

Tony waves a dismissive hand. "Parker, May's upstairs wondering if you want to stay the rest of the night."

Peter nods dumbly. He purses his lips and glances at Mikaela, cocks his head, blows air out of his mouth, then shakes his head and pushes himself off the bed, exiting the room swiftly.

Tony watches him leave, smirking. "That's going to be fun," he muses to himself.

Mikaela feels her exhaustion settling in again and slumps onto her back on the bed, groaning. After a moment, the bed dips and Tony appears next to her, putting his hands behind his head.

"So," he says, sighing.

Mikaela looks over at him, her embarrassment fading away again. She scoots closer to him so that she's pressed against his side, and he moves his arm to wrap around her.

"So," she repeats.

"D'you wanna be my kid?" Tony asks suddenly.

Mikaela freezes. "What?"

"I mean, do you want me to be your guardian? Like the person responsible for you? Obviously I'm not looking to be called 'dad' and you're not looking for someone to tell you off and I don't wanna be that guy, and nobody's going to tell you you have a bedtime all of a sudden or anything - I guess I'm not asking for you to be my kid, I'm just asking if you want me to be your family. I know those two things sound the same but-"

"You're already my family," Mikaela smiles. "Are you sure you know what you're asking? You want to be responsible for _me_?"

Tony shrugs in an attempt to seem nonchalant. "Yeah, I mean, you're not that bad, and we get on okay. Pepper likes you too, not that she'd be your new mom or anything. I was much more articulate when I proposed this to her."

Mikaela laughs giddily. "So, you just want to be my guardian?"

Tony nods hesitantly. "Yeah, I'm not exactly ready to be a dad, and I might not even be a good one, so-"

"For the record, you'd be an awesome dad," Mikaela tells him. "But that's fine with me anyway, I've not got a good history with actual dads, and you're kind of more than that anyway."

"I am? How?" Tony frowns, turning his head to look at her.

"Because you _chose_ to let me into your life-"

"Technically you broke into my life, but go on."

Mikaela glares at him playfully. "My point _is_ , you weren't obligated to care about me and look after me, but you do and you have. You could have told me to fuck off _years_ ago, but you didn't. You kept letting me come back even though I was just some random, rude kid who kept pissing you off. You've been there for me when you've had no obligation to be, and since my dad _did_ have that obligation and chose to shit on it instead, that makes you better than a dad could ever be, in my opinion."

Tony is quiet for a moment. Then he sniffs awkwardly. "Well," he says, struggling to reply. "Your emotional intelligence has matured somewhat since we first met."

"You can take the credit if you want. You deserve it the most," Mikaela says.

"Okay, for some reason, I'm feeling uncomfortable about this praise you're giving me, which is ridiculous. Can you just answer the question and then we can talk about stupid shit again?"

Mikaela grins. "I think I'd like a guardian."

xxxxxxxxxx

The next day, after a deep sleep and some good food, Mikaela takes a moment to herself in her room to go over the CCTV footage again. She watches through the whole scene, from when Magneto enters to when Tony carries her out of the room.

She ignores the way her heart feels light when she sees Peter cradling her in his arms, deciding to think about those things later, and concentrates on what Magneto says.

" _When she wakes up and wants to thank me for setting her straight, tell her I won't be hard to find_."

So far, no one has mentioned this to her. They all know what it means. Magneto thinks he is owed something after returning Mikaela to reality.

She's inclined to agree with him, as much as she hates it. She knows Magneto does what he thinks is best for the mutant population. She knows he has suffered at the hands of humans and therefore holds a justified mistrust and dislike of them. She knows that despite his motives, he went out of his way to make her see reality.

She has worked with morally skewed people before. Maybe she could get him to promise to stay away from her friends, and their families and friends, as long as she did him whatever favour he wants for helping her.

Wincing, she reaches out to her monitors and sets up a facial recognition programme, using all the cameras in New York. Magneto was right, it isn't hard to find him. He has made sure to make himself visible to a multitude of cameras, smiling up at them.

When she finds where he is currently, she sees the monitor in front of him.

"I believe you're expecting my call," she says, ignoring her instincts to avoid him.

He looks at the monitor, smirking when he sees her. "Welcome back. Is there something you'd like to say?"

Mikaela grits her teeth. "Thank you."

He smiles and sighs contentedly, clasping his hands on his stomach. "I was glad to lend my service."

"But there's obviously a price," she says.

"Of course. I don't do anything out of sheer good will," he replies.

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "What do you want from me?"

He leans forward and places his clasped hands on the desk, eyeing her. "Instant identification of anti-mutant operations and organisations," he says somberly, "And I want your help taking them down."

Mikaela considers it. It's not exactly a _bad_ thing to do.

"So I set up base somewhere and relay information?"

He smiles humourlessly. "You join my teams on their missions and assist where possible. I understand you can fight and you can shoot, alongside your skill with aggressive technopathy."

Mikaela blinks, a little surprised. "I take it these missions would occur here in the States?"

Magneto adjusts his hands and gives her a disappointed look. "No, child. Across the world."

Mikaela lifts a hand to rub her forehead. She is stalling, pretending to think about it even though she knew coming in that she owed him big time. She just doesn't want to get caught up in something that might damage the relationships she's managed to develop with humans and mutants alike.

She sighs heavily. "When do you need me to start?"

"I'll give you another day to get your bearings."

"How kind of you," she says flatly. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"No, I don't do fieldwork unless it's important," Magneto replies. "You'll hear from me if I intend on joining you."

Mikaela nods and then disconnects from his monitor, coming back to her room. Tony stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

"You're leaving us already?" he asks, hurt.

Mikaela sighs. "I owe him for what he did for me. And for you," she adds when he goes to protest. "He's the reason I'm back."

"But you would have got here eventually on your own," Tony insists.

"Yeah, eventually, _maybe_ ," she retorts tiredly. "But he got me here quicker. Saved us all a lot more upset."

"You only just got back, Mikaela," he says pleadingly, stepping towards her. "I only just got you back."

"Because of him," she shrugs, smiling sadly. "I have to do this, or he might do something stupid again."

"He wouldn't win next time," Tony scoffs. "He's pissed me off too many times. I don't respect the whole 'mutant boundary' thing with him anymore. I'll kick his ass next time."

Mikaela smiles fondly at him, but she has made her decision. "You wouldn't want to piss off his followers, trust me. He's got an army of them." He opens his mouth to argue further but she holds her hand up to stop him. "Listen, I've made up my mind. And it's not that bad - I'm helping him find innocent mutants taken for torture and experimentation. I'm helping my people."

Tony stares at her for a moment, then sighs and shakes his head. "You're not allowed to let him manipulate you against us," he says firmly.

"I thought you _didn't_ want to be my dad?" she smirks.

He flicks her forehead. "I'm saying this as your _guardian_ , dipshit."

"That's verbal and physical abuse, wow, I'm sure some social workers would _love_ to hear about this."

"Shut up," he retorts, throwing an arm around her shoulder to lead her out of her room again. "C'mon, you need to tell Pete and break his heart all over again."


	28. Communication Is the Key

**Okay, so, two people showed interest in me including Infinity War, and then I couldn't stop thinking about it, so yes Infinity War will be included in this story, but won't come up for a couple of chapters. I'm so sad I'm doing this to Mikaela!**

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight - Communication Is the Key to Any Relationship**

Mikaela pulls the dusty scarf around her neck higher to cover her nose. Her trainers are sandy and splattered with blood, her trousers the same around the ankles. She wears a white tank top that has barely survived the sand storms and a blue shirt over the top, one sleeve ripped off at the elbow, the other rolled up to a similar length. The white cap on her head is beige with sand, but is the one piece of clothing unstained by blood.

She breathes shallowly through her mouth, observing her surroundings with hard eyes. Her fingers twitch in a betrayal of emotion and she subtly glances around her to make sure no one saw - she isn't really in danger around this group, but she doesn't exactly want to show signs of weakness around them either. While she's used to people who will attack to protect and defend, these people will attack merely for the sake of it, for fun.

She walks forward, placing her feet carefully, making her way from one side of the room to another. She passes desks, machinery, medical beds, and far more ominous objects than she'd like. A red light ebbs on and off above her head, illuminating the room rhythmically like some sadistic music video. The alarm never had a chance to blare, thanks to her.

"Everyone get out?" Pyro asks, approaching her from behind at a more nonchalant pace than her own.

Mikaela nods, lifting her gaze from the floor to look at him. She has to stop walking, otherwise she'll trip over something.

Pyro smiles. "A job well done, then."

"Did you have to?" Mikaela asks.

"Did I have to what?" he smirks. "You need to be less vague."

Mikaela tries not to glare at him. "Did you have to burn them all?" she bites out, gesturing at the scorched room and the sizzling, burned corpses littered throughout.

Pyro shrugs and sighs loudly. "I suppose I didn't _have_ to. But, they didn't _have_ to kidnap and torture mutants, so."

Mikaela takes a deep breath to calm herself and instantly regrets it, the pungent smells of burnt flesh and death rushing into her nostrils. She crosses her arms in an attempt to stop her fists from clenching.

"I don't see how this makes us better than them," she mutters.

Pyro looks at her seriously. "Because they're monsters," he says, "And _we_ are heroes."

When he walks away from her, unbothered by the pools of blood and other bodily juices he steps in, Mikaela doesn't let herself look away from the scene of the gruesome slaughter. She had a part in this, and she knows she has to come to terms with that. She might not have pulled the trigger or set the flame alight, but her kill count just multiplied nevertheless.

She looks at the corpses strewn about the room, under tables and behind machines from when their alive versions had tried to hide. She looks at the mutants happily smashing machines and equipment to pieces, spitting on nearby corpses for good measure.

She knows the so-called scientists were bad. She had watched Wade kill loads of people like this when they had sought to free the mutant kids kidnapped from right under Mikaela's nose. She knows whatever fates they deserved were cruel and as equally painful and traumatic as the experiences they had put the kidnapped mutants through. Part of her can understand how her comrades can revel in the brutal execution of these scientists.

But something just feels _wrong_ about it all.

She had felt a grim satisfaction coming after Diez and his men and the organisation they teamed up with all those years ago; but these mutants are ecstatic about the chance to murder these people, and get a thrill out of inventing the most gruesome, twisted methods of doing it. Their eagerness and enjoyment of the murder unsettles Mikaela.

Maybe _once_ she would have been fine with it, but not now, not after the people she has associated herself with and let influence her.

She doesn't even let herself _think_ about how Peter would react to all this. She's just glad that he is safely in New York, blissfully ignorant.

Stealing herself, she sets her gaze on the room's exit and carefully makes her way towards it. The other mutants give her distrustful or disturbing looks, but she ignores them. She has done her time in this room. Besides, she has a group of rescued hostages to attend to.

She finds them huddled outside of the building, supporting each other and tending to any wounded. They look exhausted, scarred, traumatised - but relieved.

"Hi, guys," she says, getting their attention. "At this part in our operation, I'm supposed to welcome you to the Brotherhood. I can imagine that some of you might feel like you want to stay as far away from this kind of situation as possible, some of you might want to help other mutants like yourselves, and some of you might feel compelled to join the Brotherhood because you feel you owe them something. I just want to say that I'm not going to force you to do anything."

She looks around at them, trying to gauge their thoughts.

"I felt compelled to help them because I felt I owed them - I still do - but I'm not happy about it. They are arguably just as ruthless and merciless as the people who kidnapped you. Seeing that on as large a scale as this is kind of fucking me up, to be honest, so if that's not what you want to be involved in then please don't feel like you have to-"

"These people you speak so poorly of," a man interrupts, "These _mutants_ you antagonise, they _saved_ us. I don't care what they did to those monsters or how they did it. In fact, I hope they made the bastards suffer."

The mutants around him nod or mutter agreements. Mikaela can't blame them.

"I get that," she says, knowing they'll believe her because of the visible evidence of her own suffering scarred across her skin. "I'm just saying that if you feel pressured to join, then don't join. Just do what you think is right, do what you think is the best move for yourself. It's not exactly a glamorous lifestyle to take on."

"I used to tolerate humans," a woman speaks up from where she kneels next to a younger, more wounded woman. "I have suffered at the hands of a variety of them, to varying extents, yes, but still suffered. This is the last straw. Why do they deserve our mercy?"

Mikaela winces. "I don't want to defend anyone who has hurt you because you're a mutant," she says. "That's just fucked up. But there _are_ people out there who are better than those assholes, just like there are better people in the mutant population."

"And yet _they_ expect every one of us to have a God complex and want to kill all humans," the first man who spoke retaliates. "If they won't grow up and treat us as equals then why should we?"

Mikaela lifts a hand to rub her forehead, sighing. The man has incited loud calls of agreement, some cheers, and even a clap or two. She can see that she isn't going to get through to any of them.

"Do what you want," she shrugs, walking away from them irritably.

She sees members of the Brotherhood exiting the smoking building, grinning and laughing and celebrating the destruction they just unleashed.

It's like being with thirty Wades, and that is a _most_ unsettling concept.

xxxxxxxxxx

Tony sighs, staring at the tall glass case. His eyes follow the lines of the suit on show, admiring the colour scheme he chose and the brilliance of his engineering, despite it being years old. He's made several new suits since then, improving and advancing the design - without, he might add, _any_ field tests whatsoever - but this original suit has a special place in his heart, considering the circumstances under which he had built it.

"Moping again?" Pepper asks from behind him. She's in her fancy clothes, which means she's on the clock, but she always manages to make time for him these days, now that they're back together and stronger than ever.

He smiles, his heart warming at the sight of her - she can always make him feel better. He lifts an arm to her and she lets it slide around her waist, stepping into his side. She plants a kiss on his cheek before joining him in staring at the suit.

"Is this a new one or-"

"Mark One," Tony replies, clearing his throat.

"One of?" Pepper asks, smiling knowingly.

Tony sniffs stubbornly, lifting his chin. "Twenty-two."

Pepper lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. "Has she even tried any of them out?"

"No."

"Does she know about them?"

"I believe I told her once that I had rigged something up for her," he admits.

"What did she say?"

"She, uh, pretended I hadn't said it."

Pepper lowers her gaze, her lips pressed together in a tight, amused smile. She sighs, shakes her head, and lifts it again. "Okay."

He looks at her and cocks his head. "Is that judgement I hear in your tone, Miss Potts?"

She kisses his cheek again. "What tone?"

Tony tries to prevent the smile, but only succeeds on one half of his mouth.

Pepper slips away from him to approach the glass case. She clasps her hands in front of her and gazes up at the suit. "It looks so small. Is that really how short she is?"

Tony smirks, imagining the angry flare in Mikaela's cheeks had she been there to hear the observation. "She is small," he agrees. His thoughts make him sober up a little. "I'm not sure if that makes her an easier target or not."

"Would she not be harder to hit if she's a smaller target?" Pepper frowns over her shoulder at him.

Tony shrugs a shoulder. "Yeah," he concedes, "But it makes her look weak."

"I'm sure she's learned to use it to her advantage," Pepper muses comfortingly, turning away from the case again. She checks her watch when it lights up with a notification. "I have to go. Duty calls."

"Yeah," Tony nods, struggling to crawl out of his concerns. He kisses her as she walks by him, glancing over his shoulder to watch her go. "Fantastic view," he calls to her retreating back.

She sticks the finger up at him without looking round.

He chuckles.

"Boss?" FRIDAY's voice distracts him.

"Present," he replies, looking back to the suit.

"I'm getting a phone call from a strange number."

Tony's spirits lift. "Ghostie?"

"I think so."

"Put her through," he commands, spinning in the spot, suddenly restless.

" _Tony?_ " her voice echoes through the room.

"Hey, _there's_ my favourite adolescent," he grins. He hears her sigh, and his grin widens. "How are you? _Where_ are you? What's been going on?"

" _I'm fine_ ," she replies, " _I can't tell you, and I kind of also can't tell you_."

He pouts, frowning, clicking his fingers rhythmically. "Can't or won't?"

She sighs again, but this time she sounds more drained than frustrated. " _Both? I don't know. This is complicated._ "

"It doesn't have to be. You know I can keep a secret."

" _Ugh, yeah, I guess. I'm still in America. We've just busted another anti-mutant organisation and rescued some kidnapped mutants._ "

Tony cocks his head, his joviality slowly fading. "Shouldn't you sound a little happier about that?"

" _I am happy_ ," she insists. " _With that part at least. The methods are a bit_ …" she trails off. Another sigh, quieter this time, filters through. " _I kind of called to distract myself from that part._ "

Tony pushes his concerns aside for the moment. "Distraction? I can do that. We both know I'm a master at avoiding feelings, I'm sure I can drag you into that too."

She chuckles tiredly, and it makes him smile. " _How's New York_?"

"Still standing," he replies, pacing slowly around the room.

" _And Pepper_?"

"Perfect as ever."

" _Anything interesting happen while I've been gone_?"

"I thought I had skin cancer at one point; turned out it was just a smudge of chocolate."

" _Mhmm_ ," she hums, unimpressed. " _So life's really that boring without me? Nothing interesting, nobody interesting, no funny stories, no exciting crime fighting_?"

"Of the blue and red kind?" Tony asks knowingly.

Mikaela is quiet for a moment. " _When there's no existence-threatening situations going on, one has to resort to less satisfying means of entertainment._ "

Tony rolls his eyes. "To answer your unspoken question, Parker's doing fine. He's making his mark on Queens and the rest of New York, while managing to evade the clutches of the NYPD and journalists. He keeps _bothering_ me though."

Mikaela snorts. " _How_?"

"He keeps coming round and asking if I've heard from you or if I know when you're coming back. Frankly, I'm sick of it. Maybe you should call him sometime."

Mikaela clears her throat. " _Yeah_ ," she mumbles, before launching into a different topic. " _How's Vision getting on_?"

"So well it's almost creepy. Every day he seems more human," Tony muses thoughtfully. It's actually quite fascinating to observe. "I think he misses Wanda."

" _Like,_ _ **misses,**_ _misses? Like, they-have-a-_ _ **thing**_ _, misses_?"

Tony's face crinkles. "I dunno. Maybe."

" _That's kind of weird_ ," Mikaela mutters.

"Well, it is and it isn't," Tony shrugs. "I think if you spent more time with him it would seem less weird."

Mikaela hums thoughtfully. " _Any word from Banner yet_?" she asks after a moment, her voice gentle.

Tony sighs and looks down at his feet, pursing his lips disappointedly. He lifts a hand to rub his forehead. "No, not yet."

" _I'm sure he's fine._ "

"Yeah, he's probably living it up on a secluded beach somewhere with a mojito," Tony quips, though his voice is humourless. He misses Bruce a lot. More than he expected to. "How much longer are you supposed to be on this job for?"

Mikaela is quiet for a moment. " _I'm not sure, to be honest. I still feel like I owe Magneto. I mean, he brought me back to you. That's something I'm worried I can never repay._ "

Tony stares at the floor, almost feeling like he could blush. "You always know what to say," he sighs wistfully, covering his anxiety for her.

" _You know_ ," Mikaela muses grumpily. " _This would be a lot easier if you hadn't corrupted me with those stupid morals of yours._ "

Tony frowns, smirking. "Shouldn't you be thanking me for saving your soul?"

" _You condemned me to a life of wondering what the right thing to do is and actively_ _ **avoiding**_ _the wrong thing to do. I can't believe you did this to me. I miss doing whatever I wanted without worrying how my actions would affect someone._ "

"You were an asshole," Tony counters, deadpan. "Now you have friends. I'd say that's decent progress."

Mikaela chuckles quietly. " _Yeah_ ," she mutters.

Suddenly another voice comes through Tony's speakers from the phone call - a young man, distant. " _You're up, sweetcheeks, we've got mutants to eradicate from the internet._ "

Tony's heart sinks. He wishes they had more time to speak.

He wishes he didn't only get to speak over the phone with her.

" _I have to go, sorry. I'll call you soon_ ," she says.

"Just be careful, please," Tony replies softly, deflating.

He turns his head to look over his shoulder at the black and emerald suit he had made for Mikaela. He desperately wishes she showed more interest in it, so that she could summon it to her if she was in danger.

Most of all, he just wants her to come home.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Her breathing is ragged and sharp in her ears. Her heart thumps against her ribcage, so hard she thinks it might burst through. Horrific images flash through her mind, memories flaring in response against her will. She squeezes her eyes shut and drops her head, her fists supporting it as best as they can when they're shaking this violently.

The water around her is scalding, but she doesn't rise from it, and she doesn't turn the cold tap on to make it more bearable. She _needs_ the pain. It is the only thing tethering her to the present - without it, her rope would snap and she would drift into the darkest parts of her mind, lost.

She endeavors to calm her breathing, to banish the memories, to stop her body shaking, to normalise her heartbeat, but it's _too much_ , there are _too many_ things that she's trying to do at once. Her hands unclench enough for her fingers to dig themselves into her scalp, burying into her hair. She hears whispers in her mind, feels flashes of pain across her body, feels her throat starts to close up in an attempt to stop the drowning.

She widens her eyes again and stares down into the bath water. She watches the clouds of red in the dull puddle, watches as the water soaks away the evidence of the night from her body. Her skin is red - whether it's because of the boiling water or because it's stained by blood, she isn't sure. Her shaking fingers grasp at a pink sponge that used to be yellow and she starts to scrub at herself again, pouring her anger, fear, and horror into the movements. It scratches against her, leaving red blotches in its wake, and she concentrates on the feeling.

A drop of water falls on her hair from the showerhead above her. Mikaela flinches, whimpering, suddenly back in a concrete room with no lights and a constant dropping of water on her head, for hours, and hours, and hours, until she wonders if she even knows her own name anymore.

"I've learned a lot of different tactics over the years."

She flinches again, rage and panic swelling anew, and shakes her head, banishing the voice from her memories. She plunges her hands into the water and the burning of her skin brings her back to the bath, to the new horror she's living.

She hasn't been tortured tonight. She doesn't get tortured anymore.

Mikaela lets out a long, shaky breath and closes her eyes, her eyebrows pulling in. No, she didn't get tortured tonight. She just watched as others did.

"We don't even know if some of these people knew who they were working for!" she hears her own voice echo in her mind. "They're just _cleaners_ for fuck sake, they're innocent!"

His eyes are dark. He doesn't look away from her as he sends the flame to his first victim. The screams lash at her eardrums. The fire reflects in his eyes. He smiles.

Mikaela covers her eyes with a hand, as if that'll blind her to the memories playing in her head.

A mutant on her other side stares at another innocent human with a look of concentration, and the human chokes as blood begins to pour from their nose, eyes, ears, their mouth, and Mikaela is frozen in place, numb.

She cups boiling water in her hands and lifts it to her face, relying on pain to guide her perspective of reality. She is in the bath, in the bathroom, in the decrepit apartment. She is alone.

But she isn't safe.

xxxxxxxxxx

Peter leans his head back against the wall, only half paying attention to whichever Star Wars film Ned selected for the night. He glances at his friend, observing the way Ned gets totally invested in whatever film he watches, leaning towards the TV screen, clutching the pillow in his lap, only occasionally reaching for a handful of snacks, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

Peter looks back to the screen, sighing quietly. His hand automatically reaches into his pocket and slips his phone out, his thumb pressing the home button to light up the screen. He has it on vibrate. He hasn't felt it vibrate. He knows that no notifications await his perusal. And, yet, he checks.

He pushes his phone back into the depths of his pocket, feeling like his life revolves around checking for messages these days. The film continues regardless, Ned remains entranced, May continues to hum to herself as she tidies the apartment on the other side of his door, and Peter's fingers rest impatiently on his phone, just in case it vibrates and he doesn't feel it.

He wonders if Mr Stark sits around waiting for a message. He imagines Mr Stark doesn't need to wait, because Mikaela calls him frequently, and Peter feels a stab of jealousy over this hypothetical situation.

He sighs again. What is he _doing_? Peter is not someone to experience jealousy and bitterness. Mikaela is away from her dad and that horrible place, and that's all that matters. She is under no obligation to contact Peter and let him know where she is and how she is. They're just friends. Mr Stark is almost her legal guardian, and so has a legitimate reason to hear from Mikaela, unlike Peter.

But he _wishes_ she'd message - just once at least, to let him know she's still _alive._ He hates waiting around for her like this, hates feeling powerless, hates not knowing where she is or when she'll come back. He only had her back for two days before she ran off to repay a debt Peter personally feels she doesn't owe.

So maybe she needed time to process everything. And maybe she needed space to recover herself. And maybe he knows she should take as much time and space as she needs to get back to normal, but-

Peter almost groans out loud, dropping his head until his hand catches it by his forehead. There is no "but". Mikaela needs time and space, and deep down he _wants_ her to take it, for her own sake.

He just misses her. And missing Mikaela as much as he does is _exhausting_ , especially considering he's been missing her for _months_ already. He only got a two-day reprieve, which is definitely not enough time to recover.

It takes him a moment to realise his phone vibrated, and he curses himself for taking his fingers off of it. His fingers shake as he grasps it, his heart lifting optimistically, a smile forming on his lips.

It's a text from a local pizza place, offering a discount code on his next order.

Peter drops his phone into his lap and rubs his face with both of his hands, then shakes his head. _Idiot._

Ned laughs out loud at something in the film, and Peter peeks through his fingers at the TV screen. Wanting to share his enjoyment, Ned turns to look at Peter, grinning. He falters when he sees Peter hurriedly drop his hands from his face, smiling innocently.

"You okay?" Ned asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"Perfect, yeah," Peter nods unconvincingly. "Couldn't be better."

Ned clocks the unlocked phone in Peter's lap and rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Then he promptly turns back to the film and seems to forget all about it, laughing again at something someone says.

Peter would feel guilty, but he knows Ned isn't too bothered. In truth, he's immensely grateful for his best friend. Ned has been a silent support over the last few months, trying every method in the book to cheer Peter up or distract him. Sometimes Ned would just sit with him, staring at the wall, for hours, while Peter wallowed over Mikaela and their inability to find her.

Now that she's no longer kidnapped and he knows a little bit more about where she is and what she's doing, the situation isn't so serious, and Ned has resorted to movie nights like they used to have. Peter doesn't blame him - things _should_ be back to normal. They basically _are_. It's not like Mikaela was constantly with Peter before she was taken. He just feels, for some reason, like she _should_ be now. He wants to make up for all the time they lost while she was imprisoned, he wants to have her near him more often, he wants her to _want_ to be near him more often.

He feels weird inside. All frustrated and tense and grumpy and sad. It's starting to get on his nerves.

His phone vibrates again. Peter's eyes instantly drop to the screen, and suddenly he sits upright, an involuntary gasp escaping his lips.

"What?" Ned asks, always hopeful for a crime to fight.

"Oh my God, it's her," Peter breathes, struggling to focus enough to read the words and understand them. His heart hammers in his chest, his palms growing clammy.

"Ugh, finally," Ned groans, disappointed, and diverts his attention once more.

Peter carefully lifts the phone, as if worried he might break it and lose the message. He steadies his breathing, admonishing himself for getting so worked up over something so simple, and takes in the message.

" _Hey, hotshot. How's life in New York? Have the paparazzi caught you yet?_ "

Peter's heart flutters and he smiles, letting out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh. He licks his lips and sobers up, considering what to write back. His fingers hover over the keys, indecisive. He tears his gaze away for a moment to look at Ned, nearly asking for his advice, but then shakes his head at himself - it's not that serious.

"Me? Of course not," he types out.

He frowns, reading the words over.

His thumb hits the back key repeatedly and he sighs.

The blank message seems to mock him.

Should he even be replying so soon?

"Life's fine," he types, gritting his teeth in lonely embarrassment. "They've gotten a couple snaps in, but then their cameras seem to fly into the air of their own accord? Weird."

Quickly, he sends another: "How's life wherever you are?"

He stares at the conversation for a few moments, then locks his phone and holds it tightly, his eyes darting to the TV, the floor, the back of his phone, and back to the TV. His toes tap the rug underneath him impatiently, wondering when she'll reply.

The phone vibrates again.

" _Good to hear you're taking care of things. I've not had much time to be checking up on it all_."

Peter immediately starts typing back. "You don't have to-"

He pauses when another message comes through.

" _Had any exciting fights recently?_ "

He waits for any more messages, but none come. He frowns, glancing at the second message he sent, at the question she ignored. She only ignores things when she's uncomfortable or doesn't want the other person to know something. His heart clenches.

He begins his reply again. "It's about time I do my own damage control! I chased down a guy on a unicycle the other day, does that count?"

Peter lets his hand lower to his lap again, his eyes staring off into the distance. Something must be wrong with Mikaela. She wouldn't have ignored his question otherwise. That _bothers_ him.

His phone buzzes. " _Wow. Yes. That definitely counts. When I get time I am definitely searching for footage of that._ "

Despite his anxieties, Peter smiles down at his phone. He can imagine her taking great pleasure in the madness of that particular incident.

" _I hear you've been bothering Tony_ ", the next message reads.

Peter pauses, staring at the screen. He's been visiting Mr Stark every so often, yes, but it's just because he's worried about Mikaela and wants to know if Mr Stark has heard from her. He feels embarrassment warm his cheeks; will she think it's weird that he's been so worried?

She leaves the statement hanging, so Peter sighs quietly and considers an answer. "It was the only way I knew how to check in on you", he types. "But, thanks to your message, I now know you're alive! And you still have fingers, at least!"

He hopes the attempt at humour distracts her. He hopes she hasn't actually been hurt, because then it definitely won't be funny.

She takes slightly longer to reply this time.

" _I'm still kicking. Just keeping my head down and getting the work done so I can get back to New York._ "

Peter's fingers move to reply, but she messages again.

" _Back to you guys._ "

His heart skips a beat. He knows she probably doesn't mean anything, but it thumps loudly in his chest anyway after the brief pause.

"I can't wait for you to come home", he types, his heartbeat picking up nervously. "You've got a way of getting under people's skin, you know."

He tries to calm his mind and heart when he presses send, turning his phone upside down and lifting his hands to support his head. He closes his eyes, wondering if he'll ever acknowledge that he-

The phone vibrates and he looks down, turning it over again.

" _So do you._ "

His heart jumps.

" _I'll talk to you soon._ "

His mind is too busy to even think about replying, and he doesn't want to push his luck anyway. He wonders if she's trying to tell him the same thing he's trying to tell her.

If she isn't, he knows he'll be beyond heartbroken.


	29. Memory Lane

**Chapter Twenty-Nine - Memory Lane**

Mikaela stands in the freezing rain, her hair sticking to her cheeks and neck, blinking away the drops that fall into her eyes. A sense of dull surrealism clogs her mind, distorting her perspective of the town centre around her. It is strange to her, coming back here after all this time, having grown and changed so much since she last laid eyes on the grimy streets and miserable people.

She still fucking hates it as much as she did back then.

"Aw, man, what the hell?" a disgruntled voice exclaims behind her.

Mikaela turns to watch Pyro linger in the doorway of the chip shop, clutching a package wrapped in thick, beige paper to his chest. He is staring around him with a scowl, apparently offended by the weather.

"It was sunny when I went in there!" he continues, glancing at Mikaela incredulously.

Mikaela shrugs her soaked shoulders. "Welcome to Scotland," she says.

He groans loudly, his eyes rolling at a man trying to squeeze past him into the shop. "Fine," he mutters, stomping out into the rain to stand next to her.

"What did you decide on?" she asks him, nodding at his warm package. The smell of it wafts up to her nostrils, answering before he can, and her mouth twitches at the faint nostalgia the smell awakens.

"Uh, a fish supper?" he replies, quickly looking back at the shop to see if he's right.

Mikaela nods, hiding her smile. "Good choice."

Pyro sniffs and scowls at the rain again. "Let's get out of this shit. I don't want my fries getting wet."

"Chips," Mikaela corrects. She pinches the package, feeling several thick chips between her fingertips. "These bad boys are _chips_."

Pyro snorts. "Whatever, dork."

"This American thing you've got going on, you need to tone it down," she smirks, gesturing at his entirety. "You're gonna get battered if you keep this up."

"Isn't that what they did to my fish?" he retorts, quirking an eyebrow.

Mikaela rolls her eyes and starts walking down the pavement, Pyro following after her. She can see him attempting to stuff the package under the left flap of his leather jacket, but it's so tight he's having a very difficult time.

"Don't worry, the paper's too thick for this kind of rain to get through. It'd need to be pouring to get to the food," she comments.

"You don't consider _this_ pouring?" he demands, holding his palm out into the rain. His hair is now plastered to his forehead, drips trailing down his scrunched up face.

Mikaela just smirks again and keeps walking. She and Pyro manage to get on sometimes, like this - mostly when he _isn't_ torturing potentially-innocent humans. He has a similar kind of dark humour that can only evolve after living a somewhat hard, painful life, and he tends to treat everything with that humour, as Mikaela does when she wants to cover up or repress an emotion.

And she has _plenty_ of emotions to repress.

She still has nightmares about her time held in captivity by her father. Now, she also has nightmares about the people she is helping to eradicate off the face of the Earth. She is angry at Magneto, at her father, at _herself_. She is scared almost all of the time - likely another product of her father's capture and torture of her. She feels unnervingly out of place with a group of murdering mutants, and is determined to ignore the voice in her head that says she belongs with them, being a murdering mutant herself. But, more than anything, she wants to repress the bone-deep, draining, horrifying, confusing, depressing _ache_ inside her chest that does nothing but _long_ for New York and the people she holds dear.

She wants to see Tony's warm eyes, hear his voice, feel his hand ruffle her hair; she wants to drink until she passes out with Wade and Vanessa; she wants to feel Xavier take her hand comfortingly, feel Logan slap her on the back and grunt at her incomprehensibly, see Storm and Jean smile kindly at her.

She wants to see Peter. The way his entire face lights up when he smiles, the way his eyes reflect the sunlight, the way he smells like fresh air, the way his hands touch her so gently, the way he exudes purity and optimism as if he hasn't been through tough times himself. Mikaela used to hate his optimism, hate the way he greeted everything with warmth and friendliness, because she knew she couldn't do it, because she would have expected him to be like her, and he wasn't. But now..

 _Now_ , she looks upon his optimism and warmth with admiration. Now, she knows that he isn't some idiot who hasn't processed his own traumas. Now, she knows he isn't repressing his traumas with a faux friendliness. _Now_ , she knows that he has processed these things, he has dealt with them, and deals with them every day, and she knows that his optimism is a sign of his strength, and she admires him for that more than she admires anyone else in the world. He faced grief, faced self-blame and self-loathing, and he came through it all, deciding to make the most of his life and deciding to not let depression and guilt consume him. Now, Mikaela knows that he made a much more difficult choice than she did. _She_ took the easy route, of cynicism and coldness and distance; he did something she never could, by choosing love and happiness and life, and she truly admires him for it.

"So, what's the deal with you and this place?" Pyro's voice bursts through her thoughts, and suddenly she remembers she is soaked to the bone and so cold her fingers are numb.

She glances at him, but his chin is lifted so that he can look around at all the stunted buildings lining the street. She wonders how weird these short buildings look to him when he's been used to the towering buildings of America.

"That chippy was my favourite Saturday night dinner, when I was little," she says, repressing a sigh as her gaze falls to her shoes, splashing along in the puddles on the pavement.

She hears him chuckle quietly and murmur, "Chippy."

She doesn't share his amusement. "I'm kind of disappointed that there's anti-mutant organisations here," she continues, "In Scotland, I mean. I thought we were a bit more laid back than most people."

Pyro shrugs in her peripheral vision. "Assholes are universal," he says matter-of-factly.

Mikaela smiles bitterly. "Yeah."

They keep walking, crossing roads and following pavements away from the town centre. Mikaela looks around at the dull, grimy buildings, eyeing their fellow pedestrians warily.

"The last time I walked these streets," she says dryly, "My name was Carolyn. My family was still intact. I had a home."

Pyro makes a noise in the back of his throat. "And now?"

They stop at another crossing, waiting for the green man to let them know it's safe to cross. Mikaela looks sidelong at Pyro, at his somewhat disinterested expression. Suddenly, she feels embarrassed for speaking so much about her previous life. Her embarrassment mixes with frustration at Pyro's lack of empathy.

She thinks of Peter's face, brow creased ever so slightly in concern, comforting words on his lips.

"Now," she sighs, staring at the red man on the lights across the road, "I'm just another asshole."

Eventually, they come to the abandoned building at the edge of the town. Checking no one's watching, they climb over the mouldy fence and wade through the thick, uncontrolled vegetation in the garden. They walk round to the back of the house, and Pyro calls out to the mutants waiting inside.

Mikaela walks into the dusty, leaky house, her feet eliciting loud groans and creaks from the wooden floor beneath her. She strolls past the kitchen and living room, where the majority of the mutants linger impatiently, and lets herself into the small study at the front of the house.

The bookshelf is empty, save for the dust and cobwebs, several of the shelves hanging squint. A three-legged chair sits awkwardly in front of an old desk, the legs of which have been nibbled at for years by mice and other animals. Mikaela moves to the window at the side of the room, reaching out to flick at the dust-covered, tattered curtains, and scrunches her nose at the particles that launch into the air after her attack.

She holds back a groan of misery and lets her chin drop to her chest. Her fingers slip into her pocket to pull out her phone. Being a technopath, she doesn't need to physically check her phone like this; but, she wants to see if she has any texts, and she wants to see it with her own eyes. She expected the blank screen, but she feels disappointed anyway. Opening up her conversation with Peter does nothing to magically conjure a new message either, so she sighs and shoves her phone back in her pocket, her other hand lifting to rub her forehead.

There's no point putting it off. She has work to do.

Stealing herself, Mikaela moves to the old chair and desk and sits down, crossing her arms and leaning them on the chipped wood. She blinks, and launches herself into the mass of the internet. Pyro told her that they had heard of several mutants going missing around this area, and instructed her to investigate every adult in the town. It is tedious work, and digging around in people's personal lives, here, in this town, threatens to bring up some old memories, but she pushes through. The faster she finds the organisation, the faster they destroy them, the faster they move onto the next job, the faster she starts to feel less like she owes Magneto a debt, the faster she can get back to New York. It is a long, complicated journey she wants to speed up, but if she wants to see Peter and Tony and everyone else again, she _has_ to do it.

Weeding out suspicious adults with mysterious employers and interesting bank accounts allows her to make connections between them. She can then dive into their technological footprints, following wherever they go, finding common destinations and routes. Her mind moves effortlessly fast, leaving no room for distracting thoughts and emotions. She is consumed by the hunt, and she welcomes it.

"Well, _Ghost_ ," Pyro's voice drawls from her right. "What you got for me?"

Mikaela blinks again and comes back to the dusty old room. She looks round at him.

"I've got a mutant kidnapping in process and a potential location," she replies.

Pyro's eyebrows lift. "Can you follow the kidnappers and check out the location?"

Mikaela nods, turns back to the blank wall, and blinks again, jumping back in.

It doesn't take her long to reconnect with the van of the kidnappers. She stays with it, monitoring its progress along narrow, winding roads. It's a little bit more difficult keeping track of a moving vehicle here, unlike in American cities, because there aren't as many traffic cameras, so she has to align herself with satellites like a GPS and concentrate on the distance between her and the van.

"Okay, they've confirmed the location," she says distractedly, keeping Pyro in the loop. "Just going to have a look from above," she trails off, focusing on the coordinates. Then she blinks and returns to Pyro. "Yeah, it's a repurposed farm - looks abandoned from the outside. I think they might have the majority of the facility underground."

Pyro nods with a sinister expression. "We'll scope it out for a couple days."

"Sounds good," Mikaela says, hoping he won't continue.

"Then we'll incinerate everyone."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela stands under the bus shelter of a street, her hands plunged in her coat pockets, her black cap covering her hair. Her shoulders are hunched over slightly, a hard expression on her face as she strives to stop her foot tapping.

The house sits across the street from her. She can see that some lights are on inside, but the curtains are drawn. The sight of the building makes her chest tighten.

"Fuck," she mutters, and she walks out onto the street.

She rings the doorbell with a shaking finger, which she hastily returns to her pocket. She barely has enough time to gather herself before the door swings open, and a middle-aged woman lifts her smiling face to look at her.

The smile is swept away as dawning recognition breeds a cold, burning, hatred. An unpleasant wave of nostalgia hits Mikaela.

"What are _you_ doing here?" the woman hisses quietly, pulling the door closer to herself as if already trying to shut Mikaela out.

Mikaela smiles bitterly. "I was in the neighbourhood; thought I'd drop by," she replies in a casual, carefree tone.

The woman frowns. "Last I heard, your dad had run off with you to America."

She glances behind her after she says this. Mikaela's eyebrows lift and her smile widens, leaning around the woman to peer into the hallway.

"You got respectable guests you want kept ignorant of your dirty little secret?" she taunts.

Mikaela notices the odd items in the hallway. A man's jacket hanging by the stairs, children's toys lined neatly against the wall-

"Not _guests_ ," her mother spits at her. "My _family_."

Mikaela feels a surge of emotion in her chest, and frowns in response.

"Huh," she mutters quietly, lifting her palm to press against her chest, which has tightened again. "A new family."

"My _only_ family," her mother retorts, eyes blazing.

Mikaela recovers herself, throwing her hands up in mock defense. "Hey, it's fine, I've repressed our messy memory too."

Her mother scowls and glances over her shoulder again. A child's laughter bubbles from the living room through the hallway.

Mikaela wonders if it ever reminds her mother of when she was little.

"What are you _doing_ here?" her mother snaps again.

Mikaela shakes herself. "Family catch-up?"

"If you think for one second that we're going to-"

"Here's a funny story - you'll like this," Mikaela interrupts, chuckling to herself. "Dad - you remember Archie, right? - dad kidnapped and _tortured_ me recently, isn't that hilarious?"

Her mother looks torn between confusion, rage, and satisfaction. "I don't know how he put up with you for so long."

"Oh, it's because I'm good at making money," Mikaela replies, shrugging. "You could have been rich by now, you know."

"I don't care about money," her mother retorts quickly, shaking her head before glancing over her shoulder again. "I have a family now and I am _happy_. Aren't you happier? Away?"

Mikaela gives her a look. "Of course I am."

"Then why are you _here_?"

Mikaela shrugs, glancing around the garden for a moment. She doesn't have a real answer for her mother, but she is enjoying making her squirm like this. A small part of her acknowledges that her mother didn't immediately close the door in her face, and she feels something akin to hope. Mikaela knows any positive emotions here are just the lingering results of a young girl having her family torn apart and not really understanding why, but she feels them anyway.

"I've met a boy."

It takes Mikaela a moment to realise the words came out of her own mouth, and she frowns at herself, slightly alarmed.

"Fucking woop-dee-doo," her mother snaps quietly, throwing up sarcastic jazz hands.

It actually makes Mikaela smirk with amusement - that's something she would have done.

"Susan, who is it?" a man's voice calls from the living room.

Mikaela's mother's face goes slack with shock, her mind working slowly to figure out what to do. Mikaela stays where she is, on their doorstep, smirking - though her stomach lurches when the man's figure slips into the hallway.

"Nobody," her mother replies quickly, giving Mikaela a hard look that says: "Fuck off now."

Ignoring her thumping heart, Mikaela smiles brightly at the man as he moves towards them.

"Hi," he smiles.

His face comes properly into the light, and Mikaela's heart suddenly stops its thumping.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, glancing between them.

Her mother smiles tightly up at him. "Yes, everything's fine."

He looks unconvinced, his smile growing awkward as he looks from Mikaela's mother to her.

"Are you okay?" he asks Mikaela.

Mikaela struggles to keep her emotions from betraying her. Her hands, safely tucked inside her pocket, clench into fists. She resists the urge to attack the man standing so nonchalantly before her. She wants to scream at her mother - she can see it in her face that her mother knows what's going on.

"Yes," Mikaela manages to answer. "I got the wrong house. Thought my friend lived here."

The man smiles and raises his eyebrows expectantly. "Right then," he says, glancing at Mikaela's mother again.

Mikaela bites back her rage, looking at her mother. "Yeah," she says distractedly.

"You know where to go now, then?" the man says, trying to coax her away.

"Yes," Mikaela says, not looking away from her mother. "You told me," she goes on, directing her words at the woman who gave birth to and later abandoned her, "Because you _know_ , don't you?"

Her mother's face hardens so that Mikaela can't read it, but she lifts her chin proudly next to her new husband. "Yes, I know."

Mikaela feels like she's had the air punched out of her lungs. She nods wordlessly, takes a step back, and the man she discovered to be the head of the anti-mutant organisation here takes the opportunity to close the door in her face.

She stares at the front door that used to belong to her house. She stands frozen to the spot, shaken to the core with rage and hurt, on the path she used to run on daily. The woman who had loved her so _purely_ for the first few years of her life, before she found out what Mikaela was when Mikaela revealed her darkest secret, is inside the house Mikaela used to live in, loving a new family.

 _But_ , she chose to listen to what Mikaela had to say, and she didn't tell her mutant-murdering husband to take Mikaela to his horrendous facility, so maybe-

Mikaela blinks hard and feels her body become responsive again. She takes a couple of steps back, watching the shadows through the white curtains moving around, and turns her back on the house, marching out into the street.

She resists the young girl inside of her insisting her mother still cares about her, resists the feelings of hurt and jealousy, and thinks instead of the family she has chosen back in the States. Biology means nothing when she has Tony and Wade and Jean and Storm and Xavier, Logan, Vanessa, Pepper-

 _And Peter._

She winces at the voice in her head, remembering what she blurted to her mother.

"I've met a boy."

Embarrassment burns inside her. What a ridiculous thing to say. And to say it in front of the woman who kicked her out so young and has little to no interest in her?

She shuts the memory out and focuses instead on her mission. She now has a small fire in her stomach, an anticipation instead of a dread about the upcoming attack, a thirst to make these people _hurt_ , to make her mother's prick of a husband _hurt_.

It should scare her. She knows it should.

But it doesn't.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

In the space of a few days, Mikaela finds her rage burning even stronger in the company of such cynical and cruel people, allowing Pyro to retire his expressions of irritated exasperation in favour of approval, which he usually only directs towards everyone _but_ Mikaela. He even let her join the attack at the front, rather than hold her at the back where she usually keeps an eye on things.

Because of Pyro's generosity, Mikaela is able to kick the door down of the big bad boss and threaten him onto his knees in front of her.

The mutants who had followed her in work quickly to incapacitate the other so-called doctors in the room. She feels Pyro position himself behind her shoulder, watching silently. The man on his knees at her feet, her mother's husband, struggles to feign a defiant expression, terrified as he is of this sudden and violent intrusion. Mikaela watches his face, the beast inside her bellowing with disgust and loathing - even through his fear, she can see his resentment, his discrimination, burning in his eyes.

"Who are you?" he whimpers, looking up at her.

Mikaela shuts off the lights, blanketing them in darkness, and silences all noises around them. She leans down close to him and whispers maliciously, "I'm your step-daughter."

Her mutation surges within her. She feels her eyes go grey as the lights above them flare back into life, blindingly strong, and every alarm, desktop, laptop, and phone in the vicinity blares with horrible _noise_. She dives into his technological life, learning everything about him since his very first interaction with technology, taking such sadistic pleasure in his suffering, kneeling there before her with an expression of pure terror. He is _hurting_ , and she is thriving.

"You know, I thought I might have shown restraint at this point," she says over the noise. "Mercy, even, for old time's sake, for my mother's sake." She cocks her head at him, frowning slightly. "I thought maybe a mutant would have killed someone you loved when you were younger, or nearly killed you, to inspire such murderous loathing."

She feels Pyro press the handle of a knife into her hand. She grips it firmly and moves towards her mother's husband.

"But, you," she continues, and she grabs the back of his head, pressing the sharp blade against his exposed neck. "Nothing _happened_ to you to make you like this. You just hate us, for no goddamn reason. Do you think you're better than us? Do you really believe that, now, here?"

She grips his hair tighter and presses the knife harder against him. His eyes close, his jaw clenched, but he says nothing.

"I'm going to slit your throat," she says. "For all the people you've mutilated and murdered."

"I want to do it."

Mikaela blinks and look over her shoulder at the teenager standing in the doorway. She wears the filthy gown that marks her as a kidnapped mutant, her face flushed. She must have ran up to the office as soon as Pyro's mutants freed her.

Mikaela straightens up and takes a step back.

The teenager holds her hand out for the knife.

Mikaela does a quick check of the facility's footage and then smiles. "Use your power," she says. "It'll feel better."

The teenager moves over to the man who tortured her, and lightly presses her fingertips to his temples. His eyes snap open, his lips parting, gagging silently. Mikaela watches with fascination as tiny beads of water begin to surface on his skin, as the teenager draws them out of him.

Within seconds, he has shrivelled up like a raisin, devoid of all moisture. He never utters a sound, but his eyes tell them everything he can't.

And then he is dead.

Mikaela stares at him.

"Well?" Pyro asks, moving round her to crouch in front of the head of the organisation. He pushes the man's head, and the corpse tilts backwards and falls to the ground.

Mikaela lets out a contented sigh. "I feel better."


	30. Edinburgh

**Chapter Thirty - Edinburgh**

Mikaela walks down the creaky, broken stairs towards the bottom floor of the house, picking off the last few flakes of dried blood around her fingernails. Her murderous rampage has calmed since they got back from the facility, enough that she's been a little shocked by the intensity of it all, but she finds that she doesn't regret letting her step-father die. That teenager had suffered horrendously at his orders, and his hands, and she had deserved to get her revenge. Mikaela's content mood certainly doesn't make up for all of the horrific and terrifying things she has seen over the rest of her time spent with these mutants, but at least it's had its high points.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she falters slightly. The mutants sharing the house with her are packing up their things, but with much more enthusiasm than usual. She frowns at them curiously.

"Hey, sunshine," Pyro smirks as he comes along the hallway. "Today's your lucky day."

Mikaela moves out the way of a mutant passing with two backpacks in each hand, and quirks an eyebrow at Pyro. "How so?"

"We've been assigned a new mission," he replies.

Mikaela nods slowly. "Okay. Where are we going now?"

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "No, not _we_ ," he says, gesturing at her and then the rest of the house. "Just _we_ ," he finishes, gesturing at himself and the rest of the house, avoiding Mikaela.

She gives him a blank look. "Enlightening."

"You're not coming with us. You're free to go, for now."

Mikaela steps aside again as the same mutant shuffles back the way he came. "Magneto said that?" she asks, stopping herself from getting her hopes up.

Pyro shrugs, looking around him nonchalantly. "Yeah," he mutters.

She watches him for a moment. "So, is my debt paid, or?"

"I dunno," he sighs, giving her a bored look. "Also, I don't care."

"I'm just going to assume it is," Mikaela says, her eyes narrowing.

He shrugs again. "Your funeral."

Mikaela rolls her eyes at him. "You going back to the States?"

He smirks. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"I'm just figuring out if I can't get a ride with you to an airport or something," she mutters, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

"Nah," he replies, pushing off the wall he was leaning against. "Happy hunting, Ghost."

Mikaela watches him stomp down the hallway, directing his mutants. They gather up the rest of their belongings and file out after him, barely giving Mikaela a glance or a farewell. Within a few minutes, the house is as silent as she's ever heard it, and she doesn't know whether she's relieved, or lonely.

She decides it's probably best not to know, and starts thinking of what to do next. She comes up blank for a moment, having had her expectations of the next however many weeks or months thrown out the window with the mutants' departure. Finally, _finally_ , her time is her own again, and _she_ can decide where to go, not her father, not Magneto, and not Pyro. She is _free_ again.

Surprisingly, her instinctual impulse is not to return immediately to New York.

It takes her about half an hour to walk to the street with her childhood home on it, and she hides in the bus stop again when she spots a police car sitting in the driveway. Despite a nagging in the back of her mind, she refuses to feel guilty when she imagines the scene of the officers explaining to her mother the state they found her husband and his dirty colleagues in.

Twenty minutes go by before the police leave. Mikaela gets a glimpse of the small child through the living room window, and her resolve strengthens. She marches across the street with purpose, knocking on the door with perfectly calm fingers.

When her mother opens the door, Mikaela is ready to grab the attacking limbs that come flying at her. She restrains her mother quickly and pushes into the house, kicking the door shut behind her. Hooking a foot behind Susan's ankle, Mikaela brings her mother down onto the stairs behind her, and the woman's fight seems to leave her immediately.

Susan sobs loudly, wrenching her hands from Mikaela's grasp to clutch at her head. Mikaela's face hardens, refusing to let her mother's grief get to her.

She lifts her gaze to the hallway, and moves to head towards the living room. Susan's hand shoots out and clamps around her wrist, stopping her.

"What are you doing?" her mother sobs, anger breaking through her misery.

"I'm going to talk to your child," Mikaela replies, trying to pull her arm away.

Susan's face turns scarlet with rage and she is on her feet in a flash, her face inches from Mikaela's. "You will _not_ go anywhere near her," she hisses vehemently.

"I need to make sure she's safe here before I leave," Mikaela says pointedly.

"Of course she's safe, she's my only family," Susan snaps harshly.

Mikaela stares at her. "Well, so was I," she says quietly, "And look what happened."

She goes to continue on down the hallway, but Susan tightens her grip again. "If you think I'm going to let you _anywhere_ near her after what happened to Victor-"

"Victor got what he bloody well deserved!" Mikaela snaps, her anger flaring. She rounds on her mother now, turning her back on the hallway. "He was tearing mutant children from their homes and _torturing_ them, _experimenting_ on them! How can you _possibly_ defend that? No, don't you fucking _dare_ try!" she shouts, seeing Susan open her mouth with a look of defensiveness. "Mutants are fucking _people_ , you know, and what your husband did to those kids was beyond unforgivable! I hope he _burns_ in-"

"Mummy?" a quiet voice asks.

The purity of it shocks Mikaela out of her raging tirade, and she turns quickly to see a little girl standing in the hallway, watching them nervously.

"Oh, God, go back in the living room, sweetie," Susan says, in a soft tone Mikaela hasn't heard in years.

Mikaela tries to move towards the girl again, and when Susan pulls on her wrist once more, Mikaela loses her patience. "I don't care if you think what he did was fine," she mutters darkly to her mother. "There are bound to be people in this town, people you know and respect, who will find it as abhorrent as it is. I will tell the _world_ about what he did, and how you supported him. Just fucking try me."

Susan looks torn between anger, fear, and desperation. "Please," she whimpers.

"I'm not going to hurt her," Mikaela says, more irritable than consoling. "I didn't inherit that particular trait from you."

Susan's fingers loosen, albeit reluctantly, and Mikaela finally walks forwards. She kneels down in front of the girl she realises suddenly is her step-sister, and she softens significantly.

"Hi," she smiles gently. "What's your name?"

"Kayleigh," the girl says quietly, shy.

Mikaela's smile widens of its own accord. "That's a nice name," she says. "Kayleigh, have you heard of mutants?"

Kayleigh glances at Susan and then nods her head, biting her lip. "They've got powers, like superheroes," she says, her voice strengthening with contained excitement.

Mikaela feels a wave of emotion. "They're cool, huh?"

"Yeah," Kayleigh nods enthusiastically.

"Do you have any cool powers?"

Kayleigh's lips pout. "I keep wishing," she whispers, glancing again at Susan, "But I can't do anything yet."

Mikaela smiles. "You keep trying," she tells her. "Don't worry about what some people think. I'll keep an eye on you, okay? I'll watch out for when you become a superhero, and I'll come get you."

Kayleigh's eyes widen. "Are you a superhero?" she asks.

Mikaela realises her eyes are wide in awe, rather than fear, and she loses her voice momentarily. "Uh, well, I've got powers, yeah, but I'm not quite a superhero," she replies, feeling awkward.

"Really?" Kayleigh gasps. "Do you know other superheroes? Do you know Iron Man?"

Mikaela grins. "I do, actually."

Kayleigh seems shocked to the core with excitement. "What's he like?" she whispers.

"He's awesome," Mikaela winks. Suddenly overcome with fondness, she reaches a hand out and gently brushes her knuckles against Kayleigh's cheek. "I'll see you around, kiddo."

She stands up, rather reluctantly, and turns away from her step-sister. Walking back to the bottom of the stairs, she stops next to Susan, who is still crying, albeit silently.

"I meant that. I'll be watching out for her, and if she turns out to be a mutant, you wait until I come get her before you kick her out," Mikaela warns her quietly.

"Will she be?" Susan asks, scared.

Mikaela shrugs, tucking her hands into her pockets. "I don't know. I think the gene is passed down by the father. But you never know." She glances over her shoulder at the adorable little girl, still staring up at her in amazement. "If she is, I'll take her where she'll be appreciated and loved for who she is, and she'll find a family that will overwrite everything about this one, just like I did."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela sits on the last train to Edinburgh, with nothing but the clothes on her back and the phone in her pocket. She's looking forward to getting back to New York, looking forward to sitting and doing nothing with Tony and hanging out with Peter on some rooftops watching the sunset. She'll have to visit Wade and Vanessa too, and the mutants at the school. She smiles at the thought, her heart swelling. She has so much time to make up with them all after her capture and stint with the mutants.

When the train pulls into Waverley Station, Mikaela gets off and follows the few passengers towards the ticket barriers. She presses her hand against the barrier, making it think she has pressed a ticket to it, and walks through. The crowd splits towards the different exits, and she follows one up the stairs into the darkness. The air is sharp and cold outside, but the city is alive.

She smirks as the spots a local pub, making her way into the small, warm building. She wants to spend just a little more time in the country she was born in, before she returns to the country she found a family in - it's almost as if this trip has given her some closure, seeing her mother again and knowing there was no chance of that family ever working out. Also, despite the bitter memories Scotland holds for her, she does still harbour a deep love for the place, with its drizzly rain and beautiful mountains, and the people who are so rough but so friendly at the same time. The accents wash over her, and she blends in.

Two hours pass her by in the pub as she drinks Southern Comfort and lemonades, watching the people enjoying time with their friends. She leans back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment, enjoying her animosity and the atmosphere around her.

Someone lets out a shout - but it isn't a joyful or amused shout. Mikaela opens her eyes and sits up straight, searching for the person. She spots them, looking shocked at their phone. Then they turn and hurry to the bar, speaking urgently to the bartender. Mikaela lets go of her drink and slips off her stool at her tall table in the corner, watching with growing unease. The bartender changes the channel and increases the volume of the news report as the other customers slowly realise something's happening and quieten down, turning to the screen.

Mikaela gapes.

There is a ship - an _alien_ ship - looming over a street in New York. People are screaming and running, and she spots Tony, and some weird guy in a red cape, and-

"Banner?" she whispers, her face contorting in confusion.

It takes her an instant to process it, and then she rushes out of the pub onto the street, barely registering the lack of people now. She tears the phone from her pocket and grips it tightly, using it as a tether to the technology of the world. She is stretching her mind _far_ , and she needs all the help she can get.

A minute later, she locates traces of Tony in New York, but she can't actually-

Something invisible flies over her head.

Mikaela feels the ship move to Waverley Station and set down on one of the ramped roads leading down into it.

She sprints towards the station, shoving the phone back into her pocket. Her breath is heaving by the time she reaches it, but she continues, pelting down the steps, three at a time, her eyes searching the station below.

The fight has already broken out. She sees Steve, Natasha, and Sam battling with two enormous human-like figures, and she sees Wanda standing guard over Vision, crumpled on the floor, a wound in his side.

She jumps down the last of the steps and sets off sprinting towards them, barely comprehending the fact that there are _aliens_ in Edinburgh's Waverley Station.

Sam spots her as Natasha brings down one of the aliens and he looks momentarily incredulous. "Mikaela?" he shouts. "What the f-"

"Mikaela, get to Vision!" Steve shouts, holding off an attack from the second alien. He seems to have taken her appearance in his stride.

She nods wordlessly and dances around the battling people - and alien - ducking almost unnecessarily as the three of them bear down upon the remaining alien, before she finally skids to the ground next to Vision.

"What are you doing here?" Wanda asks, briefly taking her eyes off the fight.

"I'm Scottish," Mikaela replies as an answer, her breath still coming in heaves.

She turns to Vision then, who is looking upon the fight with great unease. His hands cover the wound on his side, which is like no other wound Mikaela has ever seen before.

"You okay?" she asks, after failing to come up with anything better.

He grits his teeth and meets her gaze, letting his grim expression speak for him.

She nods. "Okay," she pants, looking back at the fight. "Okay. I think this is looking like it's going our way."

The male alien is down on the ground, wounded. The female crouches over him, trying to encourage him to continue fighting.

"We don't wanna kill you, but we will," Natasha says.

"You'll never get the chance again," the female alien says coldly. Then she hits something on her forearm and a beam of blue light shoots down over the two aliens, and they lift into the air, rising rapidly towards the source of the light. The spear in Steve's hand shoots up after them.

Steve, Natasha, and Sam waste no time in turning and marching towards Vision and Wanda. But Mikaela kneels there, gawking at the spot the aliens just levitated away from.

"What in the _fuck_ is going on?" she asks loudly, standing up.

"Aliens again," Sam smirks, brushing past her to help Vision. "Can you stand?"

Wanda aids Vision on his other side, and the two of them support the entity as Steve and Natasha come to a halt in front of them. Mikaela stands between them all, still completely incredulous.

"Thank you, Captain," Vision says.

"Let's get you on the jet," Steve says after a small nod, and he turns and begins to lead the way to the road they landed on.

Mikaela follows after them, knowing that they'll be going back to New York, what with the alien invasion over there too. The thought that she might not be invited doesn't even occur to her.

The silence stretches until they start to board the ship, and Mikaela glances behind her at the station. "You guys really messed up Waverley Station," she says, sighing. "The Scots will _not_ be happy. Well, the Glaswegians might find it funny, but," she shrugs, smirking.

They climb into the jet, and Mikaela seats herself where she can see everyone and watch everything that's going on. As the jet rises into the air, Natasha closes the ramp up.

"I thought," she says irritably, "we had a deal: stay close, check in, don't take any chances." She paces past Vision and Wanda up the jet towards Steve.

"I'm sorry. We just wanted time," Wanda replies.

"Where to, Cap?" Sam asks from the cockpit.

Steve pauses dramatically - though unintentionally so, Mikaela thinks. Then he says, "Home."

She sees Natasha and Sam share a look before Sam turns to the controls and adjusts their course. Steve glances at Vision and Wanda, his expression subtly troubled, and comes to take a seat across from Mikaela.

"What do you know?" he asks.

Mikaela feels her coping mechanisms fail her with this reminder of her discovery before she felt the jet outside the pub. She feels a cold dread sink into her chest as she meets his gaze.

"Not much. I'm sure you saw the ship in New York. I saw it just before you guys showed up here," she replies. "What do they want?"

"They came after me," Vision supplies from further up the jet. "Or, more accurately, this." He gestures to the Infinity Stone in his forehead.

"Shit," Mikaela mutters. As soon as Tony told her about the Stones, she knew they would come to prove more than a little irksome later.

"Tony was in the fight," Steve says, frowning. "Have you been in contact with him?"

Mikaela closes her eyes and wills herself to stay calm. "No. I saw the news report well after the fight happened," she says, opening her eyes again. "I saw Bruce was there, and some other guys I haven't looked into yet."

"And now?" Steve prompts, his frown deepening.

Mikaela clenches her jaw against the urge to cry. "The ship beamed up one of the new guys, and-" her voice cracks and cuts off, so she clears her throat and tries again. "And Peter got sucked up with him. Tony flew after them both. The ship left the atmosphere. None of them came back down."

Steve stares at her, his expression softening with empathy. "Bruce filled us in. I'd hoped you might have something more for us."

She feels her eyes sting, but she doesn't let the tears escape. Her next words come slowly, her mind only just processing them and what they mean. "I can't reach them out there."

Silence fills the jet. Mikaela feels four sets of eyes on her. Her own gaze falls from Steve to some nonexistent point near the floor.

 _She can't reach them._

Tony and Peter have literally _left_ the _planet_ and gone beyond the reaches of her mutation. She can't reach them. She can't look out for them. She can't see what's happening with them.

What if they've left the planet and they never come back? And the last time she saw them she insisted that she needed to go repay a debt to Magneto, of all people, instead of actually spending time with them after her capture?

She had those two days' reunion with them, and then she had left. And, now, they've gone where she can't watch over them.

"Alright. The man with Tony had the Time Stone. We have the Mind Stone. There are other Stones out there, and this guy, Thanos-" Steve says, standing up to pace.

"Wait, who?" Mikaela asks, dragging herself from her anxiety.

"Thanos. Bruce told me about him. He wants all the Infinity Stones so that he can wipe out half the universe."

Mikaela blinks hard, her face scrunching up in utter disbelief. "Why the fuck?" is all she manages.

"Clearly, he's insane," Natasha chips in from the cockpit.

Steve walks up towards her and Sam and stands with a hand on the back of the spare seat up there, his gaze focused on the world passing beneath them.

Mikaela looks from the three of them over to Vision and Wanda, who sit huddled together, Wanda's hand on Vision's forearm, and Mikaela suddenly realises how lonely she is.


	31. Wakanda

**Chapter Thirty-One - Wakanda**

Mikaela focuses on her breathing. If she just focuses on her breathing, she won't have to think about who might or might not be on the same planet as her. She won't have to think about whether she might or might not see said not-thought-about people ever again. She just needs to focus on her breathing.

She follows the group of - technically - fugitives through the Avengers facility, until they hear voices.

"Do you have second thoughts?"

"Not anymore."

Steve and Natasha lead the way to the threshold of the open room, where Rhodes stands with a hologram of the Secretary of Defense.

"Mr Secretary," Steve greets.

Mikaela stands just behind Wanda's shoulder, knowing she'll be an unfamiliar to this government man, knowing she doesn't want him to _become_ familiar.

"You've got some nerve. I'll give you that," the Secretary says, approaching them.

"You could use some of that right now," Natasha retorts.

"The world's on fire, and you think all is forgiven?"

"I'm not looking for forgiveness," Steve says. "And I'm way past asking for permission. Earth just lost her best defender, so we're here to fight."

Mikaela's heart clenches, but she grits her teeth and refuses to let it get to her.

"And, if you want to stand in our way, we'll fight you too," Steve finishes.

The Secretary briefly glances at Mikaela, before turning to Rhodes. "Arrest them. _All_ of them."

"All over it," Rhodes replies flatly, before shutting the hologram down and tossing the Secretary away from him. He looks up at Steve as something dings in the background. "That's a court-martial," he says. Then he smiles and drops his hands so that he can shake Steve's. "It's great to see you, Cap."

"You too, Rhodey," Steve replies as Natasha walks down the steps towards them.

"Hey," Rhodes greets her, giving her a one-armed hug. He meets Mikaela's eyes for a moment, then looks away and smiles at the rest of them. "Well, you guys really look like crap. Must have been a rough couple of years."

"Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five star," Sam replies, smirking.

"I think you look great," Bruce says, entering the room from the opposite side. "Uh," he mutters, letting out an awkward breath of a laugh, "Yeah, I'm back."

"Hi, Bruce," Natasha says.

Bruce fiddles with his hands, and then gives her a short nod. "Nat."

"This is awkward," Sam says quietly to Vision, Wanda, and Mikaela.

"Let's go to a more comfortable room," Rhodes says, indicating for them all to go where Bruce emerged from.

He stands back to let them move past him, and Mikaela hesitates, unsure of herself, and of him. After a moment, she starts to follow the group, her eyes downcast. But before she can walk past Rhodes, he takes a step towards her.

"Hey," he says quietly, soft.

Mikaela looks up at him, and for some reason her resolve suddenly breaks. She feels her eyes fill with tears as she looks at Tony's best friend, and she crosses her arms, her nails digging into her skin.

"Hi," she replies, voice breaking.

Rhodes says nothing more, but he reaches a hand out and takes a hold of her opposite shoulder, guiding her after the group with a comforting grip, bringing her in close to him, and she lets him.

The moment lasts until they enter the room everyone else has wandered into, and he gives her shoulder a squeeze before letting her go. Mikaela moves over to a wall and leans against it, rubbing her forehead, her head tilted downwards, hiding her emotion from the group.

She takes a moment to gather herself, finally zoning in to the conversation beginning around her.

"So, we've got to assume they're coming back, right?" Rhodes is saying.

"And they can clearly find us," Wanda puts in.

"We need all hands on deck - where's Clint?" Bruce asks, turning to look at Natasha.

"After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal, it was too tough on their families - they're on house arrest," she replies.

"Who's Scott?" Bruce asks, turning back to Steve.

"Ant-Man," Steve replies.

"There's an Ant-Man _and_ a Spider-Man?" Bruce asks.

Mikaela's fingers twitch and she hides them in her crossed arms. Rhodes glances at her before nodding.

"Okay, look, Thanos has the biggest army in the universe," Bruce says loudly. "And he is not going to stop until he- he gets… Vision's Stone."

"Well, then, we have to protect it," Natasha says.

"No, we have to destroy it," Vision says matter-of-factly, leaning against a wall opposite Mikaela. Everyone looks over to him. "I've been giving a good deal of thought to this entity in my head, about its nature, but also its composition. I think if it were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source, something very similar to its own signature, perhaps," he says, coming to hold Wanda's arms, "Its molecular integrity could fail."

"Yeah, and you with it," Wanda says. "We're not having this conversation."

"Eliminating the Stone is the only way to be certain that Thanos can't get it."

"That's too high a price," Wanda insists.

Vision shakes his head and takes hers gently in his hands. "Only you have the power to pay it." Wanda walks away from him. "Thanos threatens half the universe. One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him."

"But it should," Steve says. "We don't trade lives, Vision."

"Captain, 70 years ago, you laid down your life to save how many millions of people - tell me, why is this any different?" Vision retorts.

"Because _you_ might have a choice," Bruce interjects. "Your mind is made up of a complex construct of overlays - JARVIS, Ultron, Tony, Me, the Stone - all of them mixed together, all of them learning from one another."

"You're saying Vision isn't just the Stone?" Wanda asks.

"I'm saying that, if we take out the Stone, there's still a whole lot of Vision left - perhaps the best parts," Bruce replies.

"Can we do that?" Natasha asks.

"Not me, not here."

"Mikaela?" Rhodes asks.

Mikaela feels her stomach churn as everyone turns to look at her. "I think that's beyond my capabilities," she says, thinking of how Vision is far more than just technology. Her mutation can only get her so far - with something that complex and so human… it wouldn't be the same as making a car drive without ever taking a driving lesson.

"Well, you better find someone and somewhere fast," Rhodes says, "Ross isn't just going to let you have your old rooms back."

"I know somewhere," Steve tells the group, nodding.

He meets Natasha's gaze, and she smiles in understanding. "T'Challa."

"Alright, we can take the jet we came on," Sam says, already moving. Natasha nods and follows after him.

"I'll pack a bag," Rhodes says, giving them a grim smile before disappearing out another door.

Mikaela continues to lean against the wall, her mind sluggish in its processing of everything that's going on, and everything they're expecting to come for them.

"Hey, you okay?" Steve asks, approaching her. Bruce turns towards her too, looking empathetic.

Mikaela looks up at Captain America, refuses to get upset, and clears her throat. "An alien army," she says in reply, shaking her head with a bitter smile. "Finding it hard to come up with an excuse to stay out of this one."

Steve gives her a small smile. "We need all the help we can get, and I'm sure you'd be invaluable."

Mikaela falters a little.

"What is it?" Bruce asks.

"I just," Mikaela says, frowning as she remembers the fight in Edinburgh. "That alien ship," she looks at Steve, who nods his understanding, "I didn't even feel it. I think I might not be able to connect to their technology."

Bruce frowns - but more with curiosity and concentration than disappointment. "Are you sure you weren't just distracted?"

Mikaela shakes her head. "When my adrenaline is pumping like that, I'm usually just connected to everything around me, like an instinctual connection so I can fight at the drop of a hat. But I felt nothing from the ship."

"Well, your value doesn't just depend on your mutation," Steve says, and Mikaela finds herself reassured, without realising it was something she worried about. "We could still use your help."

"Stark has suits for you, here," Vision speaks up, having directed his attention away from Wanda at last.

Mikaela takes a moment to realise he is talking to her. Then it clicks. "I remember he told me years ago that he'd rigged something up," she says, the memory coming back to her. "I completely forgot."

Steve gives her a smile that she knows contains amusement at Tony. "Alright then. Suit up, Ghost."

As the others bustle about to get themselves organised, Mikaela stretches her mind to encompass the facility, searching for the suit that Tony made for her. She stops dead in her tracks on her way when she realises that there is not one, but _twenty-two_ of them.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela sits on the jet between Rhodes and Bruce, holding her forearms out in front of her.

"I look like an idiot, don't I?" she asks grumpily, observing the black bracers lined with a dark emerald. They look totally out of place, considering she's wearing a t-shirt, baseball cap, ripped jeans, and old trainers on the rest of her body, while the bracers are shiny and sleek.

"Yes," Rhodes replies without hesitation, smirking at her when she glares at him.

"No, you look," Bruce begins, but he pauses rather conspicuously as he searches for an adjective. Eventually, he settles on, "Cool."

Mikaela gives him a look. "I don't want to look _cool_ ," she mutters, turning her attention back to the bracers. "Can you believe that this was the _least_ obnoxious suit I could find? And I could tell he made an effort to make them subtle."

"Come on, it's Tony," Rhodes grins, "Subtle isn't in his vocabulary."

Mikaela tuts, though she secretly finds comfort in the feel of the bracers against her skin, especially knowing that they came from Tony. It feels like she's taking a part of him with her into whatever fight it is they'll have to fight. He's moved into nanotechnology, and she can feel the buzz of it resting in her bracers, waiting to be utilised to its full extent.

Bruce moves up to the front of the jet, where Natasha is.

Mikaela lowers her bracers to her legs, her heart growing heavy again. "I wish he was here."

Rhodes reaches out to grasp her hand, and he squeezes it gently. "Me too. But, he'll be back in no time, and we'll be wishing he would piss off to space again," he smiles.

"Drop to 2600, bearing 0-3-0," Steve instructs Sam in the cockpit.

"I hope you're right about this, or we're gonna land a lot faster than you want to," Sam quips.

Mikaela and Rhodes lean forward to get a better view out the cockpit, as Sam directs the jet towards a bunch of trees covering a cliffside.

"Christ," Mikaela mutters, her body tensing.

"I'm not enjoying this," Rhodes mutters back.

Just when they're about to hit the trees, the image breaks away before them like blue technological gates opening up. They pass through a few before breaking out into open air again, soaring over a beautiful lake towards the most advanced city Mikaela has ever seen.

She lets out a relieved laugh and gazes at the view in awe. "It's amazing up close."

"Of course you knew about it before," Rhodes mumbles.

Steve directs Sam towards the landing pads, where the latter sets the jet down. Mikaela stands up with Rhodes as Bruce rejoins them. In a sudden realisation, she quickly removes her baseball cap and brushes it aggressively with her hand, turning it round to see how the whole thing looks. She feels Rhodes looking at her out the corner of his eye, but she refuses to feel embarrassed.

The last time she met T'Challa, he was a prince; but, now, he's a _king_ , and they are coming into his very hidden, very treasured kingdom.

Natasha and Steve take the front position once again and lower the ramp, Sam stepping into line behind them. Vision and Wanda are taking up the rear, but the ramp isn't wide enough for three people, so Rhodes unceremoniously shoves Mikaela out in front of him and Bruce, giving her an innocent look when she throws him an offended one over her shoulder. The guard of men and women with very shiny, pointy spears do nothing to ease Mikaela's nerves.

Vaguely, she mourns the loss of 11 year old Mikaela, who would have sauntered past these important people without a care in the world.

"Should we bow?" Bruce asks behind her.

"Yeah, he's a King," Rhodes replies seriously, though Mikaela knows instantly that he shouldn't be trusted.

"It seems like I'm always thanking you for something," Steve says as he shakes T'Challa's hand.

Now that they're off the ramp, Rhodes and Bruce have rejoined Mikaela's side, so she gets to witness the scene as Bruce clears his throat and gives a short bow.

"What are you doing?" Rhodes asks instantly.

"Uh, we, we don't do that here," T'Challa says, shaking his hands at Bruce's entirety. He turns and starts to lead the group off the landing pad. "So how big of an assault should we expect?" he asks, as Bruce gives Rhodes a withering look and Rhodes and Mikaela smirk.

"Uh, sir, sir, I think you should expect quite a big assault," Bruce says, stumbling over himself in the lingering embarrassment.

"How are we looking?" Natasha asks.

"You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and," he trails off, gesturing at the man approaching them.

"A semi-stable 100 year old man," Bucky Barnes finishes, smiling.

Steve embraces him. "How you been, Buck?"

"Uh, not bad, for the end of the world," Bucky grins.

"Come, my sister will take a look at your Vision," T'Challa says.

Rhodes, Bruce, Sam, and Mikaela all gape around at the buildings and scenery they pass, utterly amazed.

"If I lived here, I'd want to keep it hidden too," Rhodes says after a while.

The rest murmur their agreements. Mikaela's reverie breaks enough to wonder what Tony would think of the place, how he'd love to dig his hands into their technology, and the look on Peter's face upon seeing the beautiful landscape and architecture. Her heart clenches painfully and she grits her teeth, tearing her gaze away to watch where her feet are going, feeling almost guilty that she's here, seeing all of this, while the two people closest to her heart are god knows where, doing god knows what.

Finally, they come to the room where T'Challa's sister, Shuri, will be working on removing the Stone from Vision. She has him laid down on a table, the technological bracelet around her wrist scanning his body. When she finishes the scan, she turns her palm over, and a hologram of the stone lights up above her palm.

"Woah," Bruce mumbles.

"The structure is polymorphic," she says, frowning at it.

"Right, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially," Bruce replies.

"Why didn't you just reprogramme the synapses to work collectively?" she smiles, confused.

"Because we didn't think of it," Bruce says, his words short and stunted in his realisation.

Mikaela shares an amused look with Natasha.

"Well, I'm sure you did your best."

"Can you do it?" Wanda cuts in.

Mikaela feels sorry for her. She knows she would be more like Wanda if she didn't use her humour as a coping mechanism.

"Yes, but there are more than two trillion neurons here - one misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures," Shuri replies seriously. "It will take time, brother."

"How long?" Steve asks.

"As long as you can give me."

T'Challa's general, Okoye, lifts her wrist in front of her when the bracelet makes a dull buzzing noise. She pushes a bead from the bracelet and it rolls into her palm, projecting an image of the globe into the air.

"Something's entered the atmosphere," she says grimly.

Mikaela follows Natasha and the others closer to the window, where they watch as several large, triangular ships come crashing down to the ground outside the protective dome surrounding Wakanda.

"It's too late," Vision says, struggling to get off the table. "We need to destroy the stone now."

"Vision, get your ass back on the table," Natasha orders.

"We will hold them off," T'Challa says.

"Wanda, as soon as that Stone is out of his head, you blow it to hell," Steve instructs.

She nods, her eyes tearful, but her expression determined. "I will."

"Evacuate the city, engage all defenses," T'Challa calls out to his people as he walks towards the exit. Then he turns and looks at Steve, "And get this man a shield."

Mikaela watches as everyone goes off, knowing their missions. She walks over to Steve, feeling strange in her first real experience of being in an army.

"Well, Cap, where do you want me?" she asks, shaking out her arms, with the black and emerald bracers still fitting her snugly.

"Wanda can defend Vision up here," he replies. "I want you down on the field, with the rest of us."

Mikaela nods, glancing out the window at the ships.

"You ready for this, kid?" he asks.

Mikaela looks up at him again, thinking of Tony and Peter out there somewhere. "I'm gonna fuck Thanos' shit up," she replies.


	32. Infinity War

**Sorryyyyy it's been so long! My life has been a little chaotic recently with moving my parents, then moving myself, then a holiday, then a new flat without wifi! :( BUT, I'm back, and I bring a new chapter, and I really hope you all like it.**

 **Chapter Thirty-Two - Infinity War**

Mikaela hits the fresh air and makes a beeline for Rhodes, who is suited up to the hilt as War Machine. For one of the first times in her life, she feels a real nervousness overcome her, and part of it is to do with wearing a suit like Rhodes and Tony, when usually she runs about in shitty clothes and a baseball cap, with nothing but grey eyes and a handgun tucked down her jeans.

Rhodes sees her coming and pauses in his surveying of the enemy ships stationed around the dome. "You up for this?" he calls.

She looks into the red lights of his helmet and nods, breathing shakily. "Not much choice," she replies.

"At least you picked a side in this one," he jokes.

She lets out a nervous laugh. "Well, it was a tough call." She looks down at the bracers and takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "Okay, here goes."

Mikaela links up with the bracers and activates the technology, watching as it expands, piece by piece, from her forearms, up to her shoulders, down her torso, all the way to her feet, hiding away her grubby trainers. She extends her hands out, turning them over, admiring the seamless look to the technology, the way it bends and flexes with her every movement right up to her fingertips.

"Shit," she mutters, impressed. She almost feels _badass_.

"You forgot your head," Rhodes says, as Sam approaches them, drawn by her transformation.

"Damn," Sam smirks.

"I didn't forget it," Mikaela frowns at Rhodes.

"Then why's there no helmet?" he retorts, tapping his metal head.

Mikaela points at the black baseball cap on top of her head as an explanation.

"You're skipping on a helmet because you're wearing that shitty thing?" he asks flatly, crossing his arms.

Mikaela crosses her own arms. "It's my lucky cap."

"It's gonna fly off your head the moment you get into the air," Sam interjects, with a look of reluctant agreement.

Mikaela rolls her eyes, then pulls her ponytail through the hole at the back of the cap, fastening it tightly. "See? Besides, you don't have a helmet, so you can't say anything."

"At least he has goggles," Rhodes says, shaking his head.

"And what the shit are goggles gonna do?" Mikaela retorts defensively.

" _Break it up, kids_ ," Natasha says through the earpieces they received.

" _We're moving out_ ," Steve adds.

"Hey, guys!" Bruce's cheery voice greets them.

The three of them turn and shit themselves at the sight of Bruce's tiny head poking out the top of Tony's Hulkbuster suit, stumbling along towards them.

"That's concerning," Rhodes says quietly.

"Nice suit, Mikaela," Bruce says, pointing a giant hand at her.

She smiles uneasily. "Thanks, Bruce."

" _Come on, guys, T'Challa's warriors are getting into position_ ," Natasha says over their earpieces.

"The sky awaits," Sam smirks at Mikaela, before launching into the air.

"I don't know how to fly this thing," Mikaela says suddenly, nervous again.

"You'll get the hang of it," Rhodes replies dismissively, and he, too, blasts away from the ground.

"Great time to learn something new, huh?" Bruce asks her, a hint of nerves leaking into his own voice.

Mikaela grins up at him, somehow grounded a little at the sight of his uneasy expression. "At least if you're flailing about the place, you'll still do some damage to these aliens."

He chuckles humourlessly. "Oh, god, I'm gonna die."

Mikaela looks back to the multitude of hovering vehicles speeding out over the green field towards the edge of the dome where the foreign ships have landed. "Yeah, me too," she sighs.

She closes her eyes, immerses herself in her suit, and powers the thrusters on the bottom of her feet.

The feeling is beyond description. She has always, always, stayed close to the ground, lurking in the shadows, hiding in plain sight, and now she is hovering mid-air, in a glossy black and emerald suit, her loose strands of hair whipping her cheeks in the wind, where everyone can see her plainly. There is no solid ground under her feet, nothing for her to steady herself on, and no time to faff about getting to grips with it.

She tilts forward ever so gently, and activates the thrusters in her palms. She moves faster than she expected, and for a moment feels her stomach jump into her throat, but then she finds a speed she is comfortable with, and she manages to look down at herself, soaring over the warriors and grass below her. Faintly, she hears Bruce let out an encouraging whoop.

She cannot stop the grin that spreads across her face.

She soon approaches the front of the moving army, and spots Natasha and Steve looking up at her. She salutes, clumsily hitting her hand off the edge of her baseball cap - which is somehow, miraculously, still attached to her head.

" _How we looking, Bruce_?" Natasha asks, looking behind them at Bruce running along in the Hulkbuster suit.

" _Yeah, I think I'm getting the hang of it_!" Bruce replies. Immediately after, he has a go at his own thrusters, and blasts through the hovering ships, narrowly missing crashing into them, letting out a panicked yell that quickly turns into excited. " _Wow, this is amazing, man_! _It's like being the Hulk without actually_ -"

Mikaela rotates her body so that she can look back at Bruce mid-flight, watching as he trips and falls flat into the field, gouging a trench as he skids.

" _I'm okay_ ," he says when he manages to recover himself. " _I'm okay_!"

Mikaela smirks to herself and weaves over more of the ships, making sure to stay the same speed as them when she isn't quite brave enough to go any faster yet. She is slowly getting used to the feeling of propelling herself through the air, and finds her movements becoming more smooth and controlled.

" _I've got two heat signatures breaking through the treeline_ ," Rhodes' voice comes over the earpiece.

As the warriors of Wakanda disembark their hovering ships and begin to organise themselves like a proper army, Mikaela slows down and approaches Bruce, extinguishing her hand thrusters and then her feet thrusters when she's close enough to the ground, landing with a dull thud and a small stumble.

"I saw that," Bruce says, amused.

"I'm fine with that," Mikaela retorts, pulling her cap further down on her forehead, "I didn't ruin some perfectly nice grass when _I_ landed."

Bruce waves a dismissive hand, tutting.

She spots Steve, Natasha, Bucky and T'Challa at the front of the line, where another faction of Wakanda chants something in their language. For a moment, she considers joining them on the front line, but then thinks that she might not be important enough, and she'd rather be next to Bruce anyway when they're both learning on the job, so to speak.

"Let's go meet our guests," she hears Natasha say lightly.

She, Steve and T'Challa begin walking towards the edge of the dome, on the other side of which two aliens approach. Mikaela recognises the smaller one as the female who fought in Edinburgh, but the bigger, animalistic one is unfamiliar to her.

"This is fucking bizarre," she mutters to Bruce.

"Tell me about it," he says.

"It's good to have you back, by the way," she says, suddenly realising. "Where have you been?"

"Uh, just hanging out as Hulk, in space, with Thor, and some other crazy characters," he replies.

"Huh," Mikaela says, eyebrows raised into her hairline. "Did not expect that."

"Yeah."

Mikaela stands there for a moment, peering through the ranks of warriors for a glimpse of their representatives heading out to meet the aliens. "So, ever fought a war before?" she asks.

"Not as 'puny Banner'," Bruce replies glumly.

"Just when you need him, eh?"

"Nah, I'll manage fine. I think. I hope."

Mikaela spots Okoye turn and give the two of them a look that suggests she has little faith in them. Mikaela smiles uneasily and gives her a small wave.

" _Where's your other friend_?" they hear Natasha ask over the earpiece.

" _You will pay for his life with yours_ ," the female alien replies. " _Thanos will have that Stone_."

" _That's not gonna happen_ ," Steve tells her.

" _You are in Wakanda now,_ " T'Challa says boldly. " _Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood_."

" _We have blood to spare_ ," the alien retorts. Mikaela spots her thrusting her sword into the air with a shout, and the ships behind the aliens slowly begin to move.

"This doesn't look good," Mikaela says grimly.

"Uh, no," Bruce agrees.

They stand watching as the ships seem to lift a gigantic panel, opening up to let whatever's inside, out.

When the three representatives return to the army, Bucky asks, "They surrender?"

"Not exactly," Steve replies.

They can hear an unearthly, inhuman screeching sound echoing out from the trees. The noise sends a chill throughout Mikaela's body, and the reality of the situation seems to hit her all of a sudden.

She ignites her thrusters gently and lifts herself into the air above the ranks of warriors, giving herself a clear view. T'Challa starts up another war chant, the female alien slices her sword downwards, and _beasts_ burst from the treeline, sprinting on four legs towards the dome.

"What the hell?" Bucky says.

"Looks like we pissed her off," Natasha comments.

The beasts don't slow before the edge of the dome, but run full pelt at it, slamming their bodies into the blue shield so hard and so persistently that they start to burn up and die. Some arms, heads, and torsos make it through the dome, but they soon get severed from the rest of the body.

"They're killing themselves," Okoye says, disgusted.

"Mikaela?" Steve asks grimly. "Do you think your mutant friends would be game?"

Mikaela blinks, realising that she completely forgot about them. "I'll send a message," she replies. She closes her eyes briefly and searches as fast as she can for Xavier's school. A painfully long moment passes before she manages to link to a TV, and she projects their location, situation, and instructions for how to access Wakanda onto the screen. Then she pulls away to return to the fight, unwilling to be caught off guard.

More and more of the beasts throw themselves against the barrier of the dome, and more and more are torn apart. But, then, some make it through, burned and scorched, but whole and alive.

Mikaela looks to Bruce, and he turns his metal head to look back at her.

"Don't die," Bruce says. "Tony would kill us all if you died."

Mikaela doesn't know how to react. "You too," is all she manages to say.

Then she puts more energy into her thrusters, ignites those in her palm, and soars over the ranks of warriors towards the edge of the dome, where Sam and Rhodes are flying back and forth too. When she draws near, she feels her nerves and anxiety slowly retreat in her mind, making way for determination, anger, and protectiveness. All she needs to do is imagine this war to be what she's been doing with mutants for the past however many weeks, but just on a larger scale.

She extinguishes the thruster in her right palm, adjusting those remaining to compensate, and feels the technology on her forearm moving again, this time extending out past her fingers to create a blade-shape that thrums with the energy from her thruster. She hones in on a particular beast, slowly gaining on the others, ravenous in its thirst for the blood of her allies. She swoops down, twists mid-air, and thrusts her right hand out, slicing through the neck of the beast and decapitating it. Before any nearby beasts can jump onto her, she puts more power into her feet thrusters and soars away from them again into the air.

" _You see the teeth on those things_?" Sam yells.

" _Alright, back up Sam or you'll get your wings singed - you too, Mikaela_ ," Rhodes instructs.

Mikaela banks left and turns back towards the army, looking over her shoulder to see Rhodes dropping bombs at the edge of the dome just as another wave of beasts break through. Those on the other side of the dome shy away from the fire of the explosions, moving out to each side.

" _Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us, there's nothing between them and Vision_ ," Bruce says.

" _Then we better keep them in front of us,"_ Steve says quietly.

Mikaela dives down again towards another group of beasts, returning her right hand to normal. She pulls herself up straight just before them and aims her hands and chest at the group, gritting her teeth as she pours some extra energy into the suit to create a more powerful blast than it would have created alone. The three streams of energy hit the beasts with such force that they penetrate their bodies, travelling straight through some of them and hitting the beasts behind them. She restores full power to the thrusters at her feet again and blasts away from the ground into the air once more.

Mikaela hears T'Challa shout in the Wakandan language, and she turns to see him move forward in front of his army. Steve has engaged the small shields in his bracers.

"Wakanda forever!" T'Challa shouts, crossing his hands below his chin, his mask coming up to cover his face. His army cheer, brandishing their weapons, and, as one, they _surge_ towards the oncoming army of beasts.

Mikaela feels goosebumps on her skin at the sight, and turns her attention back to their enemy. Suddenly, a tiny section of the dome in front of them opens up, and the beasts waste no time barrelling through.

"Fucking hell," Mikaela mutters to herself.

For the tiniest of moments, she almost lets her nerves get the better of her again. But she thinks of Peter and Tony, and wonders if what she's doing with everyone in Wakanda is somehow helping them, wherever they are. She has to ignore the likelihood that Thanos has much more than this army; the thought of helping Tony and Peter gives her a stronger resolve and desire to fight than she's ever had before, and she can't lose that.

She soars over the mass of flailing, primitive beasts out for blood, blasting them from her hands and chest, cutting limbs from torsos and heads from necks as she goes. Every so often, when she spots a group a little away from the rest, she brings back the blade on her right hand and ignites it with energy, dropping down to the ground to slash her way through the aliens. They fight like nothing she's ever seen before, however, and she can only stand for a few seconds at most before she has to launch back into the air again, away from their desperate, savage clutches.

The fresh air whips at her face and the cuts on her skin sting vaguely, but she still has her lucky cap - even if she has to pull it down more often than Rhodes would let her away with. She looks down at the battling armies, their forces mingled as the beasts push their way through the ranks. Steve and T'Challa are fighting side-by-side on a shallow stream, Sam and Rhodes are still flying around, sending bombs and shooting guns into the fray. She spots Bruce in the massive suit blasting through multiple beasts at a time, soaring over them just to land and crush another group a few yards away.

Suddenly, Rhodes is hit by something massive and falls to the ground, in amongst a group of beasts. Mikaela wastes no time in tearing towards them, extending energised blades on both hands as she does, hatred for the things flaring in her chest. She lands with each foot on a beast, crushing them down into the ground, and starts swinging madly over the top of Rhodes' body. After a moment, he struggles back to his feet, but they are on him before he can take off into the air again.

Mikaela feels claws on her face and teeth on her arms, cracking the armour and drawing blood. She lifts her other hand to stab down into the offending beast's skull, driving the blade down and out through the bottom of its jaw. Another one jumps on her back and she stumbles forward, struggling to shake it off. She feels it tearing at the cap on her head and irritation bubbles in her to such a level that the energy in the suit and energy from her body pulses on every inch of black and emerald and she hears the beasts screech as their skin burns on contact. She lets the energy build up until breaking point, and then releases it in a shockwave into the group surrounding her, blasting them off their feet and over two meters away from her.

More beasts scramble over their fallen bodies to reach her, but she launches into the air again to get away, panting heavily, blood leaking down her face. A quick glance around her tells her that their forces are becoming overwhelmed, right down to Steve and Bruce and T'Challa.

And then something happens.

An immense, blinding, _torrent_ of light blasts down from the sky onto the ground, sending beasts flying to their deaths around it. The noise is deafening as it pounds into the soil for a long moment, and then something flies out of it, with bursts of lightning catching the beasts it passes and passes through. The weapon soars back to the point of impact of light, and suddenly it stops, and three figures step out onto the scorched earth, facing the opposing army.

Mikaela lets out a giddy laugh at the sight of Thor, with a definite haircut and a new weapon, and the tree-like figure on his right, and the tiny little _raccoon_ on his left.

"Fuckin' badass," she laughs to herself, grinning uncontrollably.

Bruce lets his helmet slide away so that he can laugh loudly and shout, "You guys are so screwed now!"

Lightning bounces between Thor and his new weapon as he starts forward into a run, yelling, "Bring me Thanos!" Then the clouds grow dark and the lightning intensifies and he jumps into the air and brings his weapon down on the ground, hard, and lightning bursts out from him at the beasts closing in on him, killing them instantly.

Mikaela can't help the way her heart soars joyfully into her throat at the sight of it. Nothing has looked more fucking awesome or has ever come at a more appropriate time in the history of the Earth, and probably the universe itself.

Mikaela jumps back into the fight, flying and blasting and landing and slicing more than she can keep track of. Everything is a blur around her, but somehow she continues to survive.

At some point, she finds herself on the ground fighting next to Bucky and the raccoon. Her left hand and chest is used for blasting beasts away before they can reach them, while her right is bladed again to take care of any that get too close.

The raccoon shouts as he blasts the beasts with his weird gun, clearly delighting in the battle. "Come and get some, space dogs!" he yells.

Mikaela laughs as she slices through another beast that jumps into the air towards her. Bucky sees they're about to be overwhelmed on all sides and picks up the raccoon in one hand, aiming his gun with the other. Mikaela realises his plan and skids down to her knees below their ranges, clenching her fists and transforming them into energy blasters. As Bucky turns round in a circle, he and the raccoon shooting continuously, Mikaela blasts energy from her fists as hard as she can, crossing her arms over themselves to reach other angles as well.

Having cut through a fair few ranks, they have a brief moment of reprieve.

"How much for the gun?" the raccoon asks.

"Not for sale," Bucky replies, taking aim again.

"Oh. Okay, how much for the arm?"

Mikaela laughs loudly.

Bucky takes one look at the raccoon and walks away.

"Oh, I'll get that arm," the small creature mutters darkly.

Mikaela grins at him.

"Nice hat," he says when he notices her gaze.

"Nice entrance," she replies, grinning still, as she returns her limbs to normal and engages her thrusters, soaring away from the ground again.

She flies over Thor, Steve, and the tree-creature fighting together, and grins down at Steve when he looks up at her.

But then she hears a noise - a loud, deep noise, coming from the trees outside the dome. She slows to a stop in mid-air and sobers up, watching as the trees start to collapse.

"Something's coming!" Mikaela shouts, knowing her allies will hear her over the earpieces. "In the trees!"

The words have barely left her mouth when whatever it is emerges from the trees, burrowing through the ground underneath the edge of the dome, and bursts out of the soil. Massive, round machines with deadly spikes that seem to move and steer of their own accord, running over the top of the beasts and Wakandan warriors alike and splitting off.

Mikaela feels sick watching them, wondering how on Earth they can possibly do something about them. Knowing it won't work, she extends her mind towards them anyway, praying to anyone listening to let her connect.

But she can't feel them.

And more are erupting from underground.

" _Focus that fire on the left flank, Sam. Mikaela, get in there too_!" Rhodes commands.

Mikaela dives and readies herself to unleash another blast of energy from within. She can feel it taking its toll in the back of her mind, but her adrenaline is keeping the exhaustion at bay for now.

" _I'm doing it!_ " Sam shouts back, firing his guns at the left side.

Rhodes swings in and fires some rockets at it too, weakening it a little.

Mikaela focuses on her adrenaline and fear, and uses them to ignite another surge of energy from inside her body. She feels it building and building, feels her eyes go grey, feels her connection to the technological world tremble.

"Outta the way, Rhodey!" she yells, strained.

He twists and backs off immediately, and Mikaela shoots towards the deadly machine, her entire body shaking with the force of her energy. She feeds off of the energy powering her suit, using it as a conduit for her own power, and acts out of pure instinct.

She stops mid-air a few metres from the machine as it charges towards her. Her legs curl at the knees, her fists clenching, her arms bending at the elbows, her whole body curving into itself as she feels the surface of her suit brimming with power. The machine misses her by centimetres, and she flings her limbs back out again, screaming with the effort of unleashing such an immense explosion of power.

It hits the left flank of the machine, which has already taken some damage, and blasts a hole in the side of it, breaking the big, spiky circle acting as a wheel of death. The machine wobbles with the impact and then falls over completely when its internal machinery begins to explode in loud, fiery bursts. The wheel stops moving, the explosions still wracking the body of the machine, taking a few nearby beasts along with it.

Mikaela falls. She hits the ground so hard she thinks she might have blacked out for a couple of seconds, because then Rhodes is suddenly next to her, his helmet slid back, and Sam is behind him providing covering fire.

"Mikaela!" Rhodes is shouting. "Are you okay?"

Mikaela lifts a hand to rub the back of her head as she slowly sits up again, relieved to find her skull intact. "I think so?" she replies, frowning.

"You took that thing down," Rhodes says in disbelief, looking over at the remains of the machine.

Mikaela takes his offered hand to get back to her feet, and she looks past the ring of dead beasts around her, clearly taken out by her blast, to see more of the machines churning the earth underneath them, killing dozens as they go.

"Doesn't feel like much of a victory," she mutters. She sways a little on the spot, and Rhodes puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "That feels like a one-time deal," she says grimly.

"Doesn't make it any less important," Rhodes tells her.

"You saved my life," Okoye says, appearing nearby. She gives Mikaela the tiniest of smiles, and nods to her.

Mikaela is still recovering her mind and senses. All she can manage is another stupid wave at the general.

"You good?" Sam shouts over his shoulder. "I don't wanna be down here for too long."

"I'm fine, go," Mikaela replies. She looks to Rhodes as well as she says this, and he nods, following Sam back into the air.

Mikaela allows herself only two seconds to admire the damage she did with her attack, and then she shakes herself, regaining focus. She surges back into the air, watching as Okoye runs towards Natasha to help.

A machine charges past her again, almost hitting her, and she lets out a startled yelp. "Fuck sake," she mumbles under her breath, sorting her baseball cap in embarrassment.

When she takes another look around the field, she sees a group of Wakandan soldiers separated from the main battle by at least a dozen of the beasts. "Right," she says, recovering _properly_ this time, and flying off towards them.

With her help, the soldiers are able to take down the majority of the beasts and make their way back into the fray, where they have plenty of other allies to assist them. Mikaela launches into the air and flies over more groups of beasts making their way through the dome, blasting as many as she can. She is struggling to put her energy into the thrusters as much now, and knows she needs to take it easy in case she needs one last go at it later.

Something red catches her eyes and she realises Wanda has left Vision's side to help in the fight, lifting the machines and throwing them into beasts like they're barely anything at all.

"Show off," Mikaela mutters, though she smirks at the sight.

Just as a throwaway thought, she extends her mind towards the tower where Shuri is working on Vision, and realises that the procedure has stopped. Just as the realisation hits her and the words of concern come out of her mouth, she sees Vision smashing out of a window with, what looks like, the male alien from the train station in Edinburgh.

"That lying bitch," Mikaela grunts.

" _Guys, we got a Vision situation here,_ " Sam calls.

"No shit!" Mikaela calls back, feeling slightly guilty when she sees a beast collide with him mid-air.

" _Somebody get to Vision!_ " Steve shouts.

" _I got it!_ " Bruce replies.

" _On my way,_ " Wanda adds, but the female alien attacks her, knocking her into one of the trenches left by the death machines.

Mikaela sees Natasha and Okoye going to help her, so is able to prioritise Vision with Bruce and hurry after him. "Bruce, I'll cover you!" she shouts, watching as a large group of beasts change direction to charge after him.

She overtakes Bruce, then twists and swoops back down towards the oncoming beasts, blasting the front few who are jumping towards the Hulkbuster suit. She lands heavily and immediately switches to her energised blades, swinging her arms wildly and without much strategic thought, just hoping that she can hold them off while Bruce saves Vision.

One manages to dodge her blades and jumps on her, knocking her down to the ground. She feels its claws rake across her face and she shouts out, more in anger than pain, blasting the beast through the neck with the beam from her chest.

"Fuck you!" she snaps, throwing it off her body and rolling out of the way of the next three who descend on her. She slashes as she rolls, taking off legs and slicing bellies open, until she reaches an open space and can stand up again.

" _Guys! Vision needs back-up, now!_ " Bruce yells.

Mikaela transforms her hands into energy blasters again and shoots at the beasts surging towards her, cutting through them one by one until they all fall into a broken and dismembered pile before her.

She stops the energy and gasps for breath, leaning to rest her hands on her knees.

"Recover later!" Steve's voice shouts from nearby.

Mikaela twists her head to look at him, sprinting faster than any man she's ever seen, with another group of beasts running behind him. She groans, grimacing, and straightens up again.

"I got this," she pants, gesturing to them as Steve rushes by, giving her a grim nod.

Vaguely, she wonders where the mutants are, but she can't afford to check.

She extends her bladed hands again, still heaving in breaths, and rolls her shoulders back, staring solemnly at the oncoming group.

"I got this," she repeats, nodding to herself.

The beasts are clambering over each other in their efforts to reach her first. Saliva flies from their mouths as they snap at the air and snarl at each other.

Mikaela winces despairingly. "I don't got this," she mutters.

But she powers up her blades anyway and exhales sharply, readying herself.

Suddenly rockets hit the ground in the midst of the group of oncoming beasts, exploding and tearing them apart. Mikaela hears gunfire too and looks up to see Sam and Rhodes coming to her rescue.

They take care of the group easily, and Sam lands next to her to give her a once over. "Man, you are covered in blood," he says.

"You would be too, if you were single-handedly holding off an army," Mikaela retorts defensively.

Sam looks behind him at the groups of beasts, totalling maybe forty. "Army, huh?"

" _C'mon, guys, they need us_ ," Rhodes says over the earpiece.

Sam launches into the air again to follow Rhodes, and Mikaela watches them go, struggling to recall her strength. She stumbles forwards a few steps, pushing away the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her, and ignites the thrusters on her feet.

They find the others quickly enough and touch down nearby. The air is tense with anticipation. Mikaela feels her stomach churn at the thought of what could possibly be worse than the army they've been facing this whole time.

" _Everyone, on my position_ ," Steve's voice comes over the earpiece. " _We have incoming_."

Mikaela spots him through the trees and forces herself to walk towards him, fighting her instinct to run from this thing that is _surely_ going to be immensely more powerful than her. She breathes sharply, wondering if the others can see her fear on her face.

A strange noise has them all looking around at the trees surrounding them.

"What the hell?" Natasha murmurs.

Mikaela hears the whirring of Bruce's suit, and turns to see him look to his left, where blue smoke seems to materialise suddenly. It builds and darkens and churns, and then she can make out a figure stepping through the smoke from somewhere unseen and undoubtedly far, far away.

"Oh my God," she mutters, ice-cold terror gripping her heart.

"Cap, that's him." Bruce says grimly.

Thanos is immense. His purple skin bulges with muscles and his figure towers over them, even at this distance. Mikaela can feel his presence from here, bearing down on her, suffocating and ruthless.

"Eye's up," Steve says, moving forwards. "Stay sharp!"

Bruce charges Thanos first, but Thanos lifts his golden gauntlet and a blue Infinity Stone flares madly. Bruce becomes insubstantial, like a ghost, and merely falls through Thanos, who uses the Stone to send Bruce into the rock wall behind him, trapping him.

Steve's attack is thwarted by a purple Stone, sending him flying out of Thanos' way.

Mikaela stands frozen to the spot, her legs unable to move, her chest tight with panic. She watches, as if in slow motion, as T'Challa and Sam are easily thrown away as well.

As if from far away, she hears Vision talking to Wanda, convincing her that she needs to destroy the Stone in his head.

Mikaela is seconds away from being overcome by her terror.

Rhodes' suit is crushed and tossed aside. Bucky and Okoye are swatted away like flies. Natasha is trapped by the ground itself, which rises to surround her.

Wanda is using both hands to channel her power at the Stone.

The tree who came with Thor is unsuccessful in his attack. Steve slides back into the fight, landing some blows that seem utterly ineffective against such an immense body. Thanos reaches out with his gauntlet hand, and Steve catches it with both of his, straining to hold it at bay. But Thanos pulls them to the side and uses his free hand to punch Steve, knocking him out cold.

Mikaela glances around.

She is the only one left to stand between Thanos and Wanda while she destroys the Stone.

Thanos meets her gaze.

Mikaela's fear flares beyond comprehension, and she is left numb.

But her feet move.

She walks forward to stand fully between the worst threat the universe has seen, and the last chance half the universe has at survival.

Her senses are sharper than they have ever been. Her breaths are deafening in her ears, her heartbeat a battle drum in her chest.

Thanos smirks. "Stark's little pet," he says. His voice is deep and unknowable.

Mikaela doesn't even wonder why Thanos knows Tony, and what it might mean for him.

She had saved up the last of her energy for a moment like this, a moment that was her last chance to be of use in this fight. She _has_ to try.

She closes her eyes for a moment and focuses all of her attention on gathering every last iota of energy from the depths of her mind and body. When she opens them again, she feels herself thrumming with the power of her mutation, the power that only lends itself to her in moments of dire need.

Thanos cocks his head slightly, observing her.

Mikaela stretches her fingers wide, listening to the sound of the suit's power building. She feels the arc reactor in the chest of her suit loading up, straining against its casing with the energy surging into it. She pours everything - _everything_ \- she has into the suit, mingling her power with the power it has left in it. She doesn't hold anything back.

If this kills her, it kills her. It is for a good cause - the best cause she can imagine ever fighting for.

She is finally doing what's right, for the people she loves, and all the people who are oblivious to this entire situation. She is ready to give up everything she has to protect anyone she can.

The suit reaches bursting point with all the power, and she lets it explode out of her, but this time she channels it all towards one single target: Thanos.

Her scream tears at her throat. She feels her consciousness waver with the effort and the power bursting from her body.

She sees his feet slip backwards as the energy hits him, and he uses the Stones to make a shield to protect his body.

She sees _effort_ in his expression. _Surprise_.

She pushes harder, screams louder, her face tight and flaming hot. She is slipping backwards herself with the force of it all.

Thanos' face reads irritation now.

Mikaela doesn't stop pushing, doesn't stop hurtling everything she and the suit has at this monstrosity. She hears alarms blaring in her ears, feels blood leaking out of her nose, sees her hands shake violently, but she can't, she _won't_ stop.

She is holding him at bay, she can see it in his face, in the way his feet are sinking into the earth, and-

She sees a flare of red on his gauntlet, and then she hears something.

"Mikaela?"

Tony's voice breaks her concentration. She turns her head towards the sound, recognises the falsity of his presence a second later.

But it is a second too late.

That second's distraction was all Thanos needed.

Mikaela feels her body leave the ground. She is sent flailing into the air, and she hits the trunk of a tree, hard, and everything goes black.

She comes to with a start, her heart suddenly hammering again in her chest as her mind instantly returns to the threat of Thanos.

It is an effort to lift her head and look around. Wanda is out cold nearby. Vision lays dead further away, grey and Stone-less.

But there is Thor, and he has Thanos' head in his hand, and he is pushing his new axe further into Thanos' chest.

Mikaela is too weak to move, to think, to act.

But she can listen.

"You should have gone for the head," Thanos says.

His gauntlet hand is in the air, his fingers pressing together.

Mikaela's breath rushes out of her.

Thanos snaps.


	33. The Silence

**Chapter Thirty-Three - The Silence**

"What did you do?" Thor demands. "What did you do?" he shouts.

Thanos uses the blue Stone again and falls backwards into the blue and black smoke, disappearing from the Earth.

Thor's weapon falls to the ground.

Mikaela's heart has frozen.

She rolls to her side and struggles to get her hands under her, to push herself up onto her knees, eyes wide, mouth agape.

Steve emerges from the trees, holding his side. He looks at Thor, at the weapon on the ground, at the space where Thanos was so very _nearly_ stopped.

"Where'd he go?" Steve pants. He looks around. "Thor?" Thor just looks at him. "Where'd he go?" Steve repeats.

"Steve?" Bucky calls out.

Thor, Steve, and Mikaela turn to look at him. Mikaela can only watch in horror.

Bucky's hand is turning to ash and blowing away in the breeze. Mikaela blinks, and his whole body has turned to ash, and he is nothing but dust on the ground.

Steve stumbles over and kneels next to it, looking up at Thor.

Mikaela slowly gets to her feet, leaning on the tree Thanos threw her against, cautiously and fearfully monitoring the sensations in her body.

She can hear Okoye shouting in the distance.

Wanda, who was kneeling by Vision's corpse, gently and silently fades to dust.

Mikaela watches everyone, hyper aware of everything she sees and hears, dreading the moment another one of them fades away, wondering if she will do the same.

Bruce appears, having freed himself from the rocks. Rhodes marches in too, followed by the raccoon. After a moment, Natasha comes running towards Steve, who is rolling Vision's body onto his back.

Mikaela clutches her throat. She can feel vomit threatening to rise. Is it done?

Her heart is clenched so tightly she thinks she might black out again. Where are Tony and Peter? Are they okay? Will they have survived?

"What is this?" Rhodes asks. "What the hell is happening?"

Steve has collapsed to a sitting position next to Vision, panting.

"Oh, God," he mutters.

They stand there, staring into nothingness, slowly recovering their breathing.

Mikaela has a hand against the tree trunk, the other still at her throat. Has it passed?

She can't even begin to comprehend what just happened, and what it means for Earth, let alone the universe. This was something she had never been prepared to take part in, had never even imagined happening. The stakes were unfathomably high, the fate of half the universe so immeasurably heavy on their shoulders.

And…

"We lost," she whispers.

Okoye comes stumbling from the trees, muttering in her language. Her expression is strained with horror.

"T'Challa," she mutters, "The King."

They don't need to ask to know what has happened.

Mikaela looks at Thor.

The guilt is already deep within his bones. She can see it in his face. She can't think of anything to say to him, or to anyone.

What do they do, at this point?

They hadn't _planned_ to lose. Where do they go from here? And _how_?

Mikaela faintly hears the sound of a jet engine nearby, and watches as the X-Men plane deactivates its invisibility.

Steve looks up, but Mikaela is already making her way towards it, stumbling, breathing quick.

The ramp comes down.

What mutants have survived?

Storm appears at the top of the ramp, her eyes wide and filled with tears. Her hands shake as they reach uselessly for something to steady her on. Then she spots Mikaela, and her face crumples.

Mikaela reaches the bottom of the ramp at the same time as Storm, and the woman stumbles into her, clutching desperately at Mikaela.

"Oh, god, oh my god," Storm whispers.

Her whole body is shaking.

Mikaela gently prises the woman off of her.

"Mikaela, what's going on? What happened?" Storm asks quietly, glancing around at the Avengers gathered nearby.

"We lost," Mikaela repeats, the words feeling poisonous and incomprehensible on her tongue.

"What does that _mean_?" Storm demands, grief, confusion, and fear contorting her features.

"Half the universe," Mikaela mutters. She has to stop speaking and turns away from Storm to vomit.

"Oh god," Storm mutters, putting an unsteady hand on Mikaela's back.

Mikaela spits out the foul-tasting bile and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. She turns back to Storm, glancing at the empty ramp.

"What happened?" she asks, even though she knows she wants nothing more than for Storm to refuse to reply.

"Jean," Storm says, her voice breaking. "Logan, Scott, they-"

She cuts herself off, her eyes filling with tears.

Mikaela's mouth parts silently, staring up at Storm.

The woman closes her eyes and lifts her hand to cover her mouth, as if she might vomit too.

Mikaela turns to look at Steve and Natasha, who are watching her with the same horrified and disbelieving expressions she's sure is on her own face.

She can't find the words. She can't find any words.

 _Where_ are Tony and Peter?

Logan, Jean, Scott..

And who else?

How many thousands, how many millions, have just faded away to nothing?

How many family, friends, lovers, strangers, have just watched a person turn to ash without being able to stop it?

It is unfathomable.

"Steve," Natasha mutters. Her eyes are tearful and distraught, but her face is determined. "Steve, the army's still out there."

Steve nods wordlessly and looks over at the pile of ashes that used to be Bucky. For a second, he almost looks lost.

"We need to get rid of the stragglers," he says, more to himself than anyone else. With an obvious effort, he gets to his feet. "There are still people we can help." His voice breaks and he stops talking, his jaw clenching.

"Mikaela," Storm says, her face desperate. "The school, the Professor."

Mikaela nods her understanding, and uses the little strength she has left to fuel her mutation. She connects with the school's technology, listening and watching through phones and cameras. It's hard to make anything out through the chaos of the children running and shouting and crying. But then-

Mikaela comes back to herself and falls to a knee. Storm instantly drops with her, grasping Mikaela's arms, her eyes already spilling with tears.

"No, no, no," Storm whispers.

Mikaela feels her own tears. Her breaths shake, her lips quiver, and the hole in her heart stretches further.

"Mikaela, tell me, please," Storm begs, though her voice breaks and she looks more broken than any person Mikaela has ever seen.

"Hank's there," Mikaela manages to say, quiet, shaky. "So are most of the kids."

Storm's face crumples and she slaps her hand to her mouth, stifling a sob.

Mikaela's breaths are quick and sharp and uncontrolled. "Xavier," she whispers, and the tears fall.

"No!" Storm sobs, and she clutches at her stomach, bending low to sob quietly into her hand.

It takes strength Mikaela doesn't know she has to lift her head. The Avengers are still stood around them, watching the scene with harrowed expressions. Mikaela tries to breathe deeply, but she finds it hard to control. Her emotions are running rampant, resisting her attempts to get a hold of them.

She thinks back to the school, and the mutant kids, terrified, having lost their leader, their guardian, their friend.

She pushes herself to her feet, and coaxes Storm up with her. "Storm," she says, taking a hold of the woman's shoulders. Storm continues to cry, but her eyes are alert and fixed on Mikaela. "You need to go back. You need to go to the kids. They need you there."

"But the army," Storm manages to say, bringing her hands up to hold Mikaela's arms.

"Forget about the army. We can deal with them," Mikaela tells her firmly, ignoring her continued tears. "The Professor's gone. The kids _need_ you."

"What about you?" Storm asks, ignoring the Avengers surrounding them.

"I'll come to the school soon, I promise."

Storm nods, and Mikaela lets go of her shoulders. The woman gazes at her for a moment, face overrun with emotion, before she takes a hold of Mikaela's head and plants a watery kiss on her forehead. Then she turns and walks back up into the jet.

Mikaela turns to the Avengers once more while the jet lifts into the air and disappears. Rhodey approaches her and puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Your Professor?" Steve asks, frowning.

"He created a safe haven for mutants. He protects the kids. They'll be devastated," Mikaela answers quietly.

Steve's face hardens. She can see the apology written in his features, but she knows he has nothing to apologise for.

"Let's finish off this army," he tells the group, "Then we need to get a hold of this situation before it spirals."

They put what little they have left into the fight. Everyone is dazed, in shock, on the brink of a breakdown, but they _fight_. The beasts slowly start to dwindle. The ships are destroyed. The Wakandan people gather around Okoye. The battlefield is organised into piles of beasts, which are burned, and the fallen warriors, who the Wakandans will mourn and have funerals for. And the Avengers return to the facility, barely managing to stay on their feet, but unable to relax.

Where are Tony and Peter?

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela sits in one of the lounges of the Avengers facility, her head in her hands, her mind and heart too empty to think or feel. Her body is stiff and heavy, plagued with exhaustion and yet refusing to sleep. Her mutation thrums with life inside of her, the only thing left to feel alive.

"We did our best to stop him," Steve is saying, mid-way through an explanation to the leaders of the countries of Earth - or, at least, their remaining highest ranking member of government.

Mikaela had been tasked with contacting each country and organising a meeting so that the leaders could all be told face-to-face why half their population had been disintegrated. It hadn't been easy - more than a few had flat-out refused to hear from the Avengers, had blamed them, had not wanted to acknowledge them as those with the most experience and understanding of the situation. Mikaela had never wanted to involve herself with governments; but in order to give them the explanation they all deserved, she had to expose herself to them, make herself vulnerable, and come clean about what was within her capabilities. Once they had realised the potential threat of her power, they swore they would give Steve the time to explain.

" _But you didn't_ ," one of the leaders retorts. Her voice is hollow - she has lost someone.

 _We all have_ , Mikaela thinks.

"We didn't," Steve repeats, grim.

" _Where do we go from here_?" someone's translator asks for them.

"We suggest you take a country-wide census, see if Thanos really did what he set out to do," Natasha says somberly.

"We all need to come together," Steve adds. "For the sake of all those innocent people that we lost, we need to support each other, help each other get things stabilised. If we don't, and if we let things get bad, I don't know how we'd ever come back from that."

" _With all due respect, Captain, our country is our priority. I need to put my people first before I can start worrying about other countries_ ," another leader replies.

Mikaela hears murmurs of agreement, and then notices the room grow quieter and quieter. She lifts her head enough to hold her chin in her hands, and looks around at where the holograms of the world leaders had been standing. The room is now empty.

"Well, it could have gone a lot worse," Natasha says, attempting a smile.

Steve rubs his eyes, placing a hand on his hip. "Two days in," he says quietly. "We don't know how many people in total have died."

"It's not as simple as half the population," Rhodey agrees from an armchair near Mikaela. "How many people will have died in resulting car crashes, plane crashes, unattended surgeries?" he trails off, lowering his head.

The room is silent for a moment.

Where are Tony and Peter?

"What do we do?" Bruce asks, hopeless.

Mikaela glances at Steve, but quickly looks away again - she can't imagine the pressure he must be feeling as the leader of the Avengers, as the person calling the shots, in a situation like this.

"We need to help Earth in whatever way we can," Steve replies. It sounds so simple when he says it. "Make sure things don't get messy. Mikaela, we'll need your help monitoring - you've got a further reach than anyone." He pauses, and she can feel his eyes on the top of her head. "If you're up for it."

She takes a deep breath, and lifts her gaze to him once more. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I've got.. people I want to check on," she continues, voice dull, "and the mutants."

He frowns empathetically. "Of course. I'm not expecting everyone to be here, working, every second of every day. We all need time and space to process this. Take whatever time you need, whenever you need it."

Mikaela nods and looks down again.

The conversation dies out as people begin to leave the room. Pepper approaches Mikaela and sits down on the sofa next to her. Silently, they take each other's hand.

"What are you going to do?" Mikaela asks. Part of her wants inspiration from Pepper, who is dealing with the same problem she is.

Pepper sniffs. "Uh, I'm going to see what help Stark Industries can give people. Maybe we can start some kind of charity with support groups and give financial aid to families who have lost people, I'm not sure."

Mikaela nods. "That sounds good."

"What about you?"

"I need to check on some friends of mine," Mikaela sighs, rubbing her forehead. "I've been too scared to do anything, but I can't wait any longer. Then I need to go to the school, see if there's anything I can do there."

Pepper squeezes her hand, and gets up to leave the room too.

Mikaela stares at the ground for some time. When she hears tiny footsteps, she looks up to see Rocket, the raccoon, walking through the room.

Where are Tony and Peter?

"Where's Thor?" she asks him.

"Moping somewhere," Rocket replies, shrugging.

"What are you doing?"

"Moping here."

Mikaela looks at him for a minute. Then, "Do you want to come mope with me?"

Rocket shrugs again. "Sure."

Mikaela leads him to the garages and picks a simple army jeep. They drive in silence, making their way into New York. The city inspires a massive sense of unease in Mikaela. Even though hundreds of people have flocked here from nearby towns and cities, it is still obvious that an immense chunk of the population is no longer there. The streets are so much quieter, the people much less boisterous and friendly. If not for the horrific cause of the situation, Mikaela could imagine herself enjoying the peace and quiet.

"Where are we going?" Rocket asks eventually, staring out at the people who don't even give him a second glance, so consumed as they are in their grief and confusion.

"I've got this friend in the city," Mikaela replies, her voice hoarse. "Wade. He's a mercenary - you'd probably like him. I haven't been able to bring myself to check if him or his girlfriend survived yet. Figured I should get on with it."

Rocket grunts in understanding. "Your buildings are very rectangular," he comments.

Mikaela ignores it. They're only three streets away.

Two streets.

One street.

A building.

Three steps.

She presses the buzzer.

" _Hello_?"

"Vanessa," Mikaela says, closing her eyes and pressing her hand against the wall. She takes a breath and opens her eyes again. "It's Mikaela."

The speaker clicks off and another buzzer sounds to tell her the door's been unlocked. She pushes against it and holds it open for Rocket. He follows her in without hesitation. That's the thing about losing half the population of the universe: the grief itself is universal, and it completely minimises any problems people have about strangers, about meeting them or seeing them or speaking in front of them. People just seem to take things for granted at this point. Mikaela walking in with an intelligent, talking raccoon.. how can that compare to the knowledge that half the universe is _gone_?

Vanessa opens the door to their apartment, and Mikaela immediately sees the lingering signs of grief. The woman opens her arms and Mikaela walks into them, holding Vanessa tightly.

She can feel it in the hug.

She can feel it in the air.

She can feel it in the deafening silence.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice breaking.

Vanessa pulls away, but cups her face in her hands. She smiles, but her eyes are filling with tears. "You don't need to be," she says. "I've dealt with his death before. I'll manage."

Mikaela frowns, emotion threatening to stir inside her again - but not the good kind.

Where are Tony and Peter?

"If you want, you can come stay with me at the Avengers facility?" Mikaela proposes, reaching her own hand up to cover Vanessa's. "There's plenty of space."

Vanessa's smile manages to widen, but she lets out a laugh that's half sob. "You're sweet," she says. Then she pulls Mikaela into another hug. "I'm so glad you're safe. He would be too." They separate again, and Vanessa pulls away entirely. She gives Mikaela another sad smile. "Thank you, but I want to stay here, for now at least. I want to be somewhere I can still feel him."

Mikaela can't think of anything to say, so she just nods.

"Come by whenever, sweetheart," Vanessa says, and, with a final smile, she closes the door.

Mikaela and Rocket leave the building and get back into the jeep. They don't say anything, because there's no point. What could possibly be said to make anyone feel better?

"Now where?" Rocket asks after another while driving. "The mutants?"

Mikaela just nods. She has been putting it off for too long. She dreads visiting the school, seeing all the kids, looking at their hopeless, lost faces as they ask where the Professor and so many of their friends have gone. But they are her people, and she can't not see them.

The sun is shining on the estate when they arrive, but there are no kids out playing on the grass, no mutations revelling in the freedom the school gives them. No Xavier looking out the window at the Eden he created for them.

The door opens before they get to it, and Storm steps outside. She gives Mikaela a small smile, and doesn't react to Rocket.

"Hi," Mikaela says, coming to a stop before the woman. "This is Rocket."

"Hi, Rocket," Storm says to him.

"Hi, lady," Rocket mutters, waving half-heartedly.

Mikaela opens her mouth to ask how things are, but the words seem inadequate. So, instead, she asks, "Any news on Magneto and his Brotherhood?"

"Not yet," Storm says, clasping her hands. "We're hoping they might want to put their agenda on hold to regroup as a species and help."

Mikaela nods. She had thought the same thing.

"Do you want to come inside?" Storm asks, gesturing at the open door behind her.

Mikaela looks down at Rocket. He just shrugs, so she nods and follows Storm in.

"We've stopped classes at the moment," Storm explains as they walk through the empty halls. "The kids need time to come to terms with it all. They need time to get in touch with their families, make sure they're okay. A few parents have actually come to collect their kids - I think the Snap gave them a wake-up call."

"Will you resume classes at all?" Mikaela asks.

Storm sighs. "Those that we can, maybe in a couple of weeks, yes," she replies. "The thing is, only Hank and I are left of the teachers, so," she trails off, rubbing her arms.

Mikaela nods. "Is, um, is Kitty…?" she asks, unable to finish the sentence.

Storm sends her a smile. "Kitty's fine. She's doing a great job taking care of the younger students."

"Good," Mikaela says.

Where are Tony and Peter?

"Listen, Mikaela," Storm sighs, stopping in her tracks to look at her. Her mood has dropped so suddenly, Mikaela feels an almost ghostly sensation of her chest tightening. "Hank's been to the nearby town a couple of times, for news and supplies, and," she pauses, frowning, "People haven't been as friendly as usual."

"Maybe they're just cold 'cos they're sad," Rocket speaks up.

Storm looks at him. "We wondered that too, at first. But Hank says it doesn't feel like that. Mikaela, I'm worried about what's going to happen to us. Humans were skeptical at best of us before all of this, but Hank was asked where _he_ was while you guys were fighting Thanos and his army. I'm worried they're going to find a way to blame us for this."

Mikaela frowns at Storm. "I'll keep an ear to the ground," she says. "They won't get to the kids, if it comes to that. I promise."

Storm smiles sadly. "Thank you."

"In the meantime, maybe try and keep a low profile," Mikaela says. "I know it's quiet out there, but it might not last."

They spend about an hour in the school, going round the kids and answering their questions. Mikaela helps a few by letting them know whether their families are okay. They are grieving and lost, clearly, but kids are resilient, and Mikaela is optimistic for them.

On the way back to the facility, Rocket clears his throat. "You got any family?"

Mikaela glances at him, then looks back to the road. Stiffly, she nods.

"You lose them?"

"No," she replies. "My dad's still relaxing in prison, and my mum and half-sister are still living in Scotland."

"You don't wanna see 'em?" he asks.

Mikaela shrugs this time. "I'd only be interested in seeing my sister; but I barely know her. It's probably best to just leave them be at the minute."

Rocket nods and looks away. "I dunno what happened to the rest of my family. All I know for sure is that Groot's gone."

"Yeah," Mikaela mutters, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. "I hope we find out soon. Anything's better than not knowing."

Where are Tony and Peter?


	34. Waiting

**Chapter Thirty-Four - Waiting**

Mikaela sits on the roof of the facility. The darkness around her is quiet, but painfully so. She has never felt exhaustion like this.

"He's out there, somewhere," Rocket murmurs darkly. The glass of his bottle clinks as he sets it on the roof.

"Coward," Thor snaps quietly, taking another swig from his own bottle.

Mikaela sighs to herself and looks away from them, failing to ignore the constant, ruthless pain in her chest. "So, he doesn't even want to _control_ the universe, after doing all that?" she asks, frowning into her lap.

"You forget, little computer, that he is _noble_ and his mission was _just_ ," Thor says, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. "He is too _honorable_ to want to rule this mess he left behind."

She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. When she opens them again, she leans in to her telescope and resumes her search of the stars.

Where are Tony and Peter?

"Ten days," Rocket says. "They don't know I came to Earth. What if they're alive, up there, and they think he got me too?"

Mikaela hears a loud smash behind her, and knows that Thor has launched yet another of his empty bottles away from him.

"I had just accepted my place as King of Asgard," he mutters. "We had become something _more_ than we had been before. And he _tore_ us apart!" The end of his shout is punctuated by another smashing bottle.

"Hey, take it easy, you'll wake up the people who _can_ sleep," Rocket grunts.

Mikaela takes her eye away from the telescope and rubs her forehead.

"Anything?" Thor asks. She can hear it in his voice that he doesn't expect a good answer.

"Nothing," she replies.

"Maybe we just have to accept that they can't get back because they're dead or don't have a ship or don't know we're here, and _move on_ ," Rocket rants. "Save us from all this damn _waiting_."

The thought of it makes Mikaela feel sick. "We just need to figure out a way to get a signal out there that your friends can pick up," she tells him. "Maybe that pager of Fury's is transmitting something they can hear."

He makes a small scoffing sound, and Mikaela can't blame him - she didn't think she sounded very convincing either.

"I should have gone for the head," Thor mumbles bitterly.

Mikaela and Rocket glance at each other. They know there's nothing they can say to Thor to change his mind; they've already tried a hundred times. But he isn't the only one feeling guilty.

Mikaela replays the moment she fought Thanos over and over again in her head - she has done since day one. Tony is one of her weaknesses, and somehow Thanos knew that. He played the card, and she walked right into it, like a goddamn idiot. Eleven year old Mikaela would never have been so distracted by something as simple as a _voice_ ; but she has people she loves now, and she has to accept that it makes her vulnerable.

"If only we'd been more prepared," she says, more to herself than the two sitting nearby. "We could have _all_ come together, we could have made a better plan."

"There's no point thinking like that," Rocket says dismissively. "Where's it gonna get you?"

"Do you think we could get a second chance?"

The words surprise Mikaela as much as the other two. She hadn't realised the question had been brewing inside her until the words spilled out.

"How?" Thor asks, his voice quiet and sorrowful.

Mikaela shrugs, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know. Maybe we could find the Stones and-"

"Hey, you wanna try take the power of all six Infinity Stones at once," Rocket scoffs, "I'll hold your jacket."

Thor looks at her for another moment, but then drops his gaze and returns his attention to his alcohol.

Mikaela blinks and looks up into the stars again.

If there was a way that she could use the Stones to undo what had been done, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

Where are Tony and Peter?

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela stands in the massive kitchen at Xavier's school, plating up dinner for the kids lined up waiting. They take their plates with a "Thanks" and a smile, but their sadness is palpable.

"Hey, kids, why don't you take your food and watch a movie with dinner, huh?" Storm suggests cheerfully, her smile lighting up her face when she sees their positive reactions. They rush out of the room, loudly debating which film they should watch and why their opinion is best. Mikaela has to hurry her plating up when she spots the stragglers bouncing on their toes impatiently for their food, eager to follow their friends.

Hank enters the room after the mass has left, chuckling to himself at their behaviour. "It's good to see them happy," he says in his deep voice. He walks over to Storm and Mikaela, putting a furry, blue hand on Storm's shoulder as he leans in to sniff the food. "Mmm, smells wonderful."

"Sit down, I'll get you a plate," Mikaela says.

She serves up three last plates and they sit down together at the small table in the room - the larger ones being in the dining room. For a moment, they eat in silence, reluctant to speak and bring the mood down.

Eventually, Mikaela has to do it. "So, how's the town seeming now?"

Hank sighs and briefly removes his glasses to rub his eyes. "Not any better, anyway," he replies, giving her a tense smile while he returns his glasses.

"Some people kind of look like they've been investigating the estate," Mikaela says, her fork moving her food around aimlessly. "I'm thinking I should take some of the technology from the Avengers Facility and bring it here, to stop intruders and stuff. Just in case."

Storm sighs and looks off in the direction the kids went, listening for a moment to the sound of their movie starting. "I hate this," she finally says. "Thanos didn't discriminate - we _all_ lost people. You'd think their empathy would be kicked up a notch, at this point."

"They're scared and confused," Hank replies. "They can't see past their own losses."

"Well, if they try anything, they're going to get their asses beat, losses or no," Mikaela grunts.

Storm gives her a disapproving - but amused - look and shakes her head. "How are things at the Facility, anyway?" she asks, frowning curiously.

Mikaela puts her fork down to rub her face. "They're as okay as they could be, I guess. Steve and Natasha are working on keeping an eye on the world, Rhodey's with the military, Bruce is trying to keep Thor busy so he stops wallowing all the time, and Rocket is," she pauses, shrugging, "Lonely, I think."

Where are Tony and Peter?

"And you?" Storm asks gently.

Mikaela looks up to meet their gazes. Her heart clenches painfully and her thoughts zip to the dark places she strives _so_ hard _every_ day to stay away from. "I'm okay," she says.

"Mikaela-" Storm begins, but Kitty hurries into the room and interrupts her.

"Hey, sorry, you'll never guess who I bumped into in town," she says, breathing quickly.

Mikaela stands up immediately, frowning, noticing Kitty's dishevelled state. "What happened?"

Kitty leads them outside and points up the driveway, where a lone figure stands. Mikaela groans loudly, but she follows Storm and Hank towards the gates anyway.

"You miss me?" Pyro smirks at her when they get within earshot.

"You look like shit," Mikaela replies.

It's true - his clothes are dirty and rumpled, and she's sure there are flecks of blood stained into the material.

"We were mid-raid when people started vanishing," he explains, sobering up a little. "We lost more than they did."

"Where's Magneto?" Storm asks, crossing her arms.

Pyro's expression falls even further. "Nobody's seen or heard from him since everything happened," he says.

"So, you're jumping ship again?" Mikaela asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He gives her a look. " _No_ , I'm here on behalf of the group of mutants I've managed to gather on my way here."

"You want to come back?" Storm asks, frowning sceptically.

Pyro looks at her for a moment, then nods. "Our numbers took a hit," he says. "There are a lot of mutants out there still who don't want anything to do with you, but I've rounded up those that see the strength in numbers and the wisdom of a truce."

"A truce?" Hank repeats, sharing a look with Storm.

"We know what we need to sacrifice to come back," Pyro nods. "But we're willing to do it, at least until things settle down again. Go back to normal."

Mikaela knows what their answer is going to be. She and Storm had hoped that this would happen.

"You can set up camp on the grounds," Storm says. When Pyro starts to reply, she cuts him off. " _But_ , we're having some trouble with the towns near here, and I don't want your people provoking them or giving them incentives to attack. We have kids here, and I'll protect them before I protect any of you."

Pyro looks at her, and Mikaela can see the respect in his eyes. "We're happy to be your line of defence against anyone stupid enough to come hunting."

Mikaela raises her eyebrows and nods approvingly. "I can set up shit around the walls, and these guys can put out patrols or something around the grounds to make sure everything's okay. If anything, it would give you more time to get the kids evacuated if worse came to worst."

Storm nods her agreement. "How many people do you have?"

"Just over a hundred," Pyro replies. "The majority of the Brotherhood wanted to continue on without Magneto."

"Say what you will about Erik, but he at least kept his mutants in check. Without him, who knows how far they'll go," Hank says.

"I'll need to keep an eye on them," Mikaela muses. "Would you give me their names, or would that feel too much like betrayal?"

Pyro meets her gaze and smirks. "Every man for himself. I'll tell you about the more prominent figures, the ones who'll have most likely taken charge."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Where are Tony and Peter?

Mikaela is curled up on the sofa with Vanessa, sharing a blanket and a bottle of wine. Some stupid movie is playing on the TV and the curtains are drawn shut, even though it's 2pm, because everything outside and everything else on TV is depressing and a constant reminder of their loss. Every so often, Vanessa sniffs into the blanket and wipes her eyes.

"Who was that raccoon you came by with last week?" she asks suddenly. Her voice is hoarse and quiet, but there are traces of amusement in it.

Mikaela smiles to herself. "His name's Rocket. He's part of a group of aliens called the Guardians or something, they go about saving the galaxy and shit."

"I didn't really register the fact that it was a fucking raccoon at first," she laughs. "I thought you'd gotten a dog or something."

"If dogs could talk, drink, and shoot," Mikaela shrugs. She glances at Vanessa and chuckles.

"Saving the galaxy, huh?" Vanessa murmurs after a moment. "That's intense."

Mikaela nods, breathing deeply. "Very intense."

"I keep forgetting that this is something that happened all over the universe. I keep forgetting it's not just our planet. Not just me."

Mikaela reaches out to hold Vanessa's free hand, squeezing it comfortingly, because she can't think of anything to say.

"Have you heard from Tony or Peter yet?" Vanessa asks, sniffing.

Mikaela stares at the TV screen, but doesn't really see it. "No," she replies quietly.

Vanessa squeezes her hand now, because there's nothing that can be said.

A few hours later, Mikaela leaves the apartment and walks out onto the street. Her brain shuts off and her feet move, leading her through the city of their own accord. She is so _tired_ , so tired because she can't sleep, so tired because she barely eats, so tired because 99% of her day is spent wondering, praying, _waiting_. And every day, she hears nothing. Every night, she sees nothing. And each day is a day further from when she last saw the two most important people in her life.

"I'm so sorry, but do you have any change?"

The voice brings Mikaela back to herself. It's growing dark now, and she's managed to make her way into Queens. The woman who spoke is sitting on the steps to, what appears to be, her home. Her clothes hang off her, her eyes red from crying, her movements sluggish.

Mikaela glances around and spots an ATM. "Give me two seconds," she mutters distractedly, and crosses the street to it.

She presses her hand against the machine, checking her surroundings for onlookers, and connects to the technology. She has noticed more than a few well-off people in this world retaining their wealth, despite everything that's happened, all the charities that others are pouring their money into, and the thought of taking their money for the people they _should_ be sharing it with brings her a small joy. These days, a small joy can make all the difference.

She walks back over to the woman, who stares at her with apprehension and disbelief, and hands over the wad of cash. "Take care of yourself," she says, smiling uncomfortably when the woman's eyes fill with tears.

She has to walk quickly to avoid the oncoming gratitude, wondering what the woman would think if she knew it was stolen money.

Before long, she finds herself standing at the foot of Peter's building. She lifts her eyes to gaze up at his floor, wondering what the apartment looks like inside, now that no one is there to live in it. At least May doesn't have to worry about Peter.

She walks on for another while, losing track of time again. She feels like she does this now, on Earth, wandering around like a lost puppy, waiting for her family to come back for her. But she can't let herself think about it too much - because, if she does, she thinks she'll just have to lay down on the ground and never get up again.

Her feet stop again, and this time she finds herself in a graveyard. She knows this place. She's seen him come here before; she's _been here_ with him before.

Her chest tightens.

She moves quietly through the headstones, knowing the way, knowing the stone she's looking for.

Religion has never been something she's put much thought to. She doesn't know what to believe, or whether she even wants to believe anything. When she came here with him, he had laid down some flowers and touched the headstone, had said, "I miss you", and then stood silently for a while.

"I don't have any flowers," Mikaela says, standing awkwardly before the grave, her hands shoved inside her pockets, her cap low on her head.

She looks around her to make sure she's alone. Is talking normal? Is that what people do?

"I hope you don't mind that I came by myself."

Is he even _there_ to mind?

Mikaela sighs and rubs her forehead.

"I guess Pete's kind of an astronaut now," she says, giving a short, humourless laugh. "He, em, went up into space on an alien ship."

She winces and pulls her hands out her pockets to cross her arms over her chest. Is she being an idiot?

"Tony was there, though, so, I'm sure he's safe."

She glances around her again.

"But, they haven't come back down yet. I guess they're having too much fun up there to come back yet. Must be awesome. They'll be excited, the big nerds."

Her heart clenches. Her eyes sting.

"It would be good if they came back, though," she mutters. "It's just a bit rude staying up there, isn't it?"

She sniffs and closes her eyes.

"I wish they'd come back. I miss them. I miss Peter."

She has so many things to say.

"I'm sorry about May."

Her voice breaks and her eyes snap open. Her feet are moving before she even realises she needs to leave or she'll have a panic attack. Her sniffs are aggressive, her hands angry as they wipe the tears away. She needs to get _away_ from here.

But where _are_ Tony and Peter?


	35. Drowning

**Chapter Thirty-Five - Drowning**

Eleven year old Mikaela would be horrified by her. Eleven year old Mikaela would have barely noticed the scene, let alone felt the need to intervene and protect. Eleven year old Mikaela knew the horrors being done to mutant children, knew about the struggles they all faced, knew about the team of adult mutants working against their evil brethren and working to better their relationship with humans, and eleven year old Mikaela couldn't have given less of a shit.

Current Mikaela - what is she now, seventeen? - wonders what her eleven year old self would have to say to her, if the apathetic child could see her now. She wonders which of them is better off, in the grand scheme of things - the lone wolf without a care in the world, or the young woman who would do anything to protect those she cares about?

"Who are you?" a voice calls out.

Mikaela lifts her chin to try see the speaker, but they're lost in the small crowd. "I'm Mikaela," she tells them.

"No, she means _what_ are you?" someone else snaps.

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "A miserable bitch, what are you?"

"Micky," Kitty says gently - but Mikaela can sense her quiet amusement.

"You're giving off a bad vibe here, guys," Mikaela says, listening to her friend's warning.

"Like you people haven't been doing that for years?" someone calls from the back of the crowd.

"Do you hold mankind responsible for all the murders that some of you commit?" Mikaela challenges, crossing her arms.

"We're not freaks!" someone shouts. A few people cheer.

Mikaela makes an exasperated expression. "Aw, for fuck sake, man, get a new insult!"

"You're not even American!"

Mikaela unfolds her arms to rub her face, groaning loudly. "The world has gone to shit, and you want to argue about which country people belong in? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Kitty puts a hand on Mikaela's shoulder that tells her to stop talking. "Listen," she says, commanding the attention now, "We aren't doing anything wrong. We're staying away from your town, we're keeping to ourselves here on this estate - we don't want to upset you anymore than you already have been."

"Then get away from here! Pack up and leave!"

"Go off planet, for all we care, just leave our town alone!"

"We _are_ leaving you alone," Mikaela retorts. "You guys are the ones marching like a mob up to our front gates!"

"Someone has to take action against you," a man at the front comments darkly.

Mikaela stares him down. "Why? What's the reasoning behind that mentality?"

"You all walk around like you're a bunch of heroes," he spits out, "You act like you're better than us, superior to us, because you can do some fancy things. But, when all is said and done, you weren't good enough to stop Thanos. You weren't heroic enough to save my family."

With that, the anger in the crowd seems to morph into grief and sorrow, and they slump into themselves, deflating. Mikaela can only gape at the man.

Kitty takes her by the shoulder and turns her away from the crowd, saying gently to the man, "I'm sorry for your loss."

They walk back through the gates onto the driveway, Pyro emerging from under the trees to close the gates behind them.

"You shouldn't let them say those things," he says, glaring at the humans through the bars.

Mikaela glances over her shoulder to see the crowd slowly dispersing, some crying now, others comforting them. But that man still stands there, still glaring her down, as if it's all her fault.

She nips the guilt in the bud before it can overwhelm her.

Where are Tony and Peter?

"They're grieving - anger and blame is a natural part of that," Kitty shrugs, letting go of Mikaela.

"So are we," Mikaela mutters bitterly, pulling the tip of her baseball cap down lower.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela presses the bandage more firmly against the girl's wound, wincing at her pained whimper. "Sorry," she mumbles. The car goes over a bump in the road and they're jostled again, making tears rush to the girl's eyes. "It's okay. We'll be there soon."

The girl nods, biting her lip. "Okay," she whispers.

"You should have let me burn them to ash," Pyro grinds out from the driver's seat.

"And made things worse for us?" Mikaela snaps back at him. "You wanna set the rest of the human population against us?"

Pyro sends her a glare in the rear-view mirror.

Mikaela expands her mind and reaches out for the school, finding Storm's phone. The mutant picks up in one ring.

" _Mikaela_?" she guesses.

"Hey, get Hank to clear a space in the medical wing," Mikaela tells her.

" _What happened? Are you okay_?"

Mikaela can tell from the phone's location that Storm is already moving to carry out her instruction. "We picked up a girl," she explains, "A bad group caught her."

" _Oh, god_ ," Storm mutters, quietly seething. " _How bad_?"

"One of them sliced her with their knife, but it's not deep, it's just bleeding a lot."

" _When will you get here_?"

Mikaela looks away from the girl to observe their surroundings as they rush by the car. "Not long. A few minutes at most."

" _Okay. See you soon._ "

Hank and Kitty are waiting with bandages and a blanket for them at the front door. Mikaela transfers the girl over to them and watches the three hurry into the mansion. As soon as they're out of sight, Mikaela stumbles and nearly loses her balance from a sudden impact.

She whips round, eyes blazing, mouth opening to shout at Pyro for shoving her, but his fist is already flying. Mikaela lifts her hand, dodges to the side, and the nanotech moves faster than she can think, forming a thruster to blast Pyro away from her.

"Hey!" Storm shouts, hurrying out the front door towards them.

"What the shit are you doing?" Mikaela demands, ignoring the woman. Anger burns in her chest.

"What am _I_ doing?" Pyro repeats indignantly, glaring up at her from the ground. "What the fuck was that?"

"You were gonna punch me, you fucking baffoon!"

"Not that," he growls, angrily pushing himself up onto his feet again. "You _saw_ what those monsters did to her, and you just let them _go_!" he rages.

The nanotech retreating to her bracer again, Mikaela threads her fingers into her hair and pulls, infuriated. "I didn't let them _go_!" she shouts back. "I have everything I need on them to find them again! I just didn't want that girl to watch us beat them half to death after everything she's been through!"

"No one's beating anyone half to death!" Storm cuts in, her voice loud and sharp.

"But-" Pyro starts.

"Hey!" Storm snaps, and her eyes go grey in her anger. "You said you knew what you were sacrificing, coming here! We _don't_ kill people! We _help_ them!"

"Exactly!" Mikaela agrees.

"And _you_!" Storm continues, turning on Mikaela. "What are you _doing_? You think the kids want to see you _attacking_ our own? You think that gives them any hope? Any happiness?"

Mikaela's words die on her tongue. She stares wide-eyed at Storm, wondering if she's ever been chastised like this before.

"We are all stuck in this shitty situation together, and _no one's_ going to benefit if we all start attacking and killing each other! We're trying to sow _peace_ , not conflict, _not_ violence! So get your shit together!"

With that, Storm goes back inside, slamming the door behind her.

Mikaela continues to gape at the closed door. "Huh," she mutters curiously.

Pyro marches up to her, eyes blazing, voice quiet and deadly. "How long do you think this can last? You think the humans will just _settle down_? You think they won't eventually come for you?"

Mikaela lifts her eyebrows. "Oh, so it's not 'us' anymore?"

"Don't be naïve," he spits. "Some point down the line, they're gonna storm this place with their pitchforks and torches, and you better pray we're there to protect you."

Mikaela resists the urge to demonstrate her lack of need for his protection. "You'd really just leave these kids to fend for themselves?"

Pyro straightens, his face hardening. "They'd have the same choice you guys turned down when you had the chance."

Mikaela laughs bitterly. "What, 'join us or we won't protect you'? Real fucking noble, man."

"At least we'd succeed in protecting them. Could you say the same?"

He storms away before she can answer. She stares after him, her mood sinking, hopelessness creeping up on the edge of her consciousness.

Where are Tony and Peter?

She thinks she might just feel like she's drowning.

Where can she find hope in this world?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela sits in a heap at the foot of the grave, staring at the engraved name and kind words below it.

"I wish I could have met you," she mutters, picking at the grass between her legs. "I think Pete is so pure and good because he uses you as his beacon, his guide."

She pauses to take a deep breath and squint up into the sunlight. She doesn't even feel the warmth of the sun anymore. She just feels the pain as it sears her sensitive eyes.

"He's lucky that he had you from such a young age, and was so open to your guidance," she says, smiling somewhat bitterly. "When I met Tony, I was a little brat who couldn't be told what to do or how to do it. I couldn't even admit I cared about him for years. By the time I met Pete, I still wasn't ready for him. For his endless, ruthless optimism and warmth."

She wonders if that came across more as an insult than a compliment.

"He might have been my worst nightmare at first," she says, struggling to remember just how it felt to hate him. "But, now.."

She shakes her head and clears her throat.

"Well, it's been sixteen or seventeen days now, I'm not sure," she continues, subdued. "I'll give them a month, and then I'll have to go look for them and bring them home, cos they're out way past curfew."

She sighs quietly, rubbing her forehead. Her eyes close against the sunlight, seeking out the darkness, and she feels a familiar sense of numbness coming over her.

"Anyway," she says, standing up. "I hope you appreciated this edition of my forced companionship. I know I'm nothing compared to what Peter would be, but, you don't really have a choice. And you can't do anything about it anyway. No offence."

She turns and walks out of the graveyard, pulling her cap down a little more. People on the streets are either lost shadows of themselves, or scittery mice versions. No one came out of this thing without loss, without pain, and no one seems to be handling it well. How could they? Not only have they lost loved ones without any warning, but half the fucking population of the Earth has vanished too, and you can't not notice it, at this point.

Something that scares Mikaela is that they might have to get used to this emptiness - this massive, incomprehensible, indescribable _hole_ left by those who vanished. It isn't something people should have to _get used to_ \- that's something she can't bear the thought of, and she's terrified that, at some point, it is going to become reality.

She finds Natasha, Steve, and Rhodes bustling around the facility when she gets back. Nobody ever seems cheerful to see each other anymore. She walks through them and out into the hallways. She passes a room with Bruce sitting awkwardly next to Thor, clearly uncertain of how to comfort his friend. She passes more empty rooms than she cares to count, ignoring the memories of them being filled with staff working with the Avengers.

She almost passes the room Rocket's taken as his own before she realises what it is he's watching on his TV.

"Really?" she asks, frowning at him.

Rocket doesn't look at her; he just continues to gape at the screen, shoulders slumped and hand loosely grasping the remote.

"I could always distract myself before," he mutters, shrugging limply. "I always had something else I could be doing. But now I don't got nothin' to do, so here I am."

Mikaela grimaces and walks into his room. "You could watch something else instead?" she suggests. "Literally _anything_ else."

"So stupid," he groans quietly, ignoring her.

"They're not stupid," she counters, sitting down next to him and watching the screen with him.

"Can they talk?" he retorts.

"No, but-"

"Then they're stupid," he spits.

Mikaela notices the empty bottles lying on the ground. She reaches over and plucks the remote from his unmoving fingers. "Why don't you try to sleep, instead of watching videos of raccoons," she sighs.

Rocket finally looks at her, and she sees the same expression on his face as she does when she looks in a mirror. "Can _you_ sleep?" he asks darkly.

Mikaela clenches her jaw, but she doesn't drop his eye contact. "No," she says.

Rocket shrugs and looks back at the blank TV screen. "Put the idiots back on."

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "I'll put a movie on instead."

She hears him mock her quietly as she moves to turn the artificial windows to dark, and manages a small smile. She sets him up with a random comedy, making him promise not to go back to the raccoon videos, and leaves him to it.

Her room waits for her at the end of the hall. She opens the door and stops, her hand on the door knob, her tired gaze lingering on the armchair next to the desks of monitors, the chair Tony used to sit in when he was waiting for her to come back.

She wonders what is worse: waiting for someone right in front of you to come back, or waiting for someone you can't see and have no idea where they are.

After a quick glance at the floor next to the bed, Mikaela feels her chest tighten and she shuts the door again, turning back on herself to go to one of the recreational rooms.

She can sit on a couch and stare out the window for a while.

Where are Tony and Peter?


	36. Half a Reunion

**Chapter Thirty-Six - Half A Reunion**

Mikaela comes to quickly and aggressively. For a moment she is completely bewildered and a little panicked, until she notices the blanket over her body and Natasha sitting in a nearby chair with an almost tender smile.

"Afternoon," she says.

Mikaela sits up straight and rubs her face. "What happened?"

"I found you in here when I woke up. You fell asleep." Her tone suggests it is an achievement.

"Shit," Mikaela mutters, lifting the blanket off and standing up.

Natasha pins her with a stern gaze. "No, not 'shit'. It's good. Really good. You need rest."

Mikaela feels like her mind is taking too fucking long to wake up. "No, there's too much going on, too much I need to do. I need to check on the mutants and Vanessa and Pepper, I have to keep an eye on them for-"

"Mikaela," Natasha says quietly, but firmly. "You don't _have_ to do everything all the time. You _can't_ do everything all the time. You need to sleep, you need to relax."

Mikaela still isn't waking up fast enough. She rubs her face with both hands and stumbles backwards onto the couch again. "When I stop, I think about them. When I sleep, I dream about them. It's too hard."

Natasha moves quietly to sit next to her. "I know," she says gently, a hint of hollowness to her voice. She puts a hand on Mikaela's shoulder. "But you still need rest."

"It doesn't feel very restful," Mikaela mutters, taking her hands away from her face and collapsing into the back of the couch. "Anyway, did I miss anything?"

Natasha shakes her head. "Day twenty-two," she intones. "Countries are still on the brink of collapse, society is still reeling, we still failed."

Mikaela sighs. "I wonder how all those other planets are handling it. It's easy to forget about them with all of our shit going on, but they're in the same sinking boat we are."

They fall silent, as is the norm these days. It just feels like there's no hope or happiness left in the world and everything is in a miserable, numb limbo and nobody can talk about anything other than the fucked up situation they're in and that just brings everyone down further.

"Do you know what scares me?" Mikaela asks, her voice barely above a murmur. When Natasha turns to look at her, she continues, but her gaze is pinned to the floor. "Thanos called me 'Stark's pet'." She breathes for a moment, recalling the moment he used her weakness against her. The moment she failed. "I don't know how he knew Tony's name, or that we were connected. Did he watch us? Or did he meet Tony somewhere up there? And, if he did, what does it mean that Thanos made it to Earth and we still haven't heard from Tony?"

"I think if he'd killed Tony, Thanos would have used that against you."

"Unless he thought telling me that would mean I had nothing to lose, and I'd give him all I had," Mikaela counters.

She's been round and round in this exact circle before, so many times. She's never managed to break out.

"Nobody knew how powerful you were gonna be in that suit, though," Natasha responds. "Not until the fight started."

Mikaela nods, but her heart isn't in it.

"Listen, it's not much use guessing like this. We just need to be patient," Natasha sighs, rising to her feet. She looks at Mikaela for a moment, and Mikaela looks back, wondering if Natasha can see how broken she is. "If Tony's alive, he'll come back to us. They both will."

But where _are_ they?

xxxxxxxxxxx

Mikaela is slumped in front of the telescope again, with Thor and Rocket slumped against the wall on the roof behind her. There are a few clouds in the sky tonight, but otherwise, it's clear. There are no sounds of smashing bottles or drunken rages because Thor seems too miserable to even drink now, and Rocket seems to just follow Thor's example.

Mikaela is in the middle of counting out another minute. Her fingers pick at the loose pebbles underneath her, itching to get back to the telescope, but knowing she can't stare out it for every minute of the night. She has settled with every second minute instead. Look for a minute, break for a minute, look for a minute, break for a minute.

"Is your minute up yet?" Rocket asks.

He's become more desperate recently. The waiting is killing him. Especially when they don't know if they'll ever stop waiting.

"Ten seconds," Mikaela says.

Rocket grunts softly. Mikaela glances over, seeing them both looking skywards.

"Where are my people?" Thor mutters.

3, 2, 1.

Mikaela reaches for the telescope again and presses her eye to it. The countdown to her break begins.

She scans back and forth, up and down, analysing and questioning each and every star in the sky, even searching the moon for a sign.

The others are silent behind her.

Is that star usually there? Probably.

3, 2, 1.

She sighs and lets go of the telescope.

"I miss Groot," Rocket groans. "He was my moral compass. I just wanna kill everyone, but he's not here to change my mind."

"You can kill me, if you want," Thor spits quietly, kicking a pebble away from himself.

Rockets tuts and turns away, his clenched fist relaxing.

"Steve said he's going to shave off his beard," Mikaela says aimlessly. She's just looking for a distraction.

30 seconds.

"I liked the beard," Thor mumbles.

"Me too," Mikaela agrees.

"I don't have anything to compare it to," Rocket shrugs.

Mikaela re-ties her shoelace.

3, 2, 1.

She reaches for the telescope. A cloud floats past, obscuring a chunk of the sky from view. Mikaela grits her teeth. A single star manages to shine through it, but the cloud takes too long to shift to see anything else.

3, 2, 1.

"How are the mutants?" Rocket asks.

Mikaela sighs and shrugs. "The unrest is growing. Slowly, but still growing. I don't think it's going to 'blow over'," she replies, quoting Steve at a moment when he had tried to comfort her.

"Maybe you should kill some of the troublemakers, set an example."

Mikaela quirks an eyebrow at him. "That was a terrible suggestion."

Rocket opens his hands and shrugs in a "what are you gonna do?" sort of way.

Mikaela taps her foot impatiently.

3, 2, 1.

Her eyes go straight to the star she noticed before. Is it.. _bigger_?

She frowns and readjusts herself. Her hands grip the scope tighter.

Or is she just imagining things?

It doesn't look _that_ much bigger than the other stars.

3, 2, 1.

She tuts and pulls herself away, committing the size and location of the star to memory.

"How long do we wait?" Thor asks, his voice dark and tired.

Rocket stares between Thor and Mikaela, uncomfortable.

Mikaela doesn't think she's capable of anything _but_ waiting. She doesn't think she would ever be able to stop waiting and hoping, to admit that too much time had passed, that Tony and Peter were likely-

"We wait until they come back," she says firmly.

Thor lifts his gaze to her face. For a moment, he looks as though he might argue her answer. But then his lips purse and he nods solemnly.

3, 2, 1.

That star is definitely bigger. Definitely. She checks the other stars in the sky for comparison, but she knows in her heart that this particular star has doubled in size since she first noticed it. And it's just getting bigger.

It's bright, too, much brighter than the others.

And…

"What the fuck?" she mutters.

"What?" Rocket demands instantly. "'What the fuck' what?"

The glow of the star is _reflecting_ off of something above it, something bigger than it, something-

"Is that a ship?"

The telescope and its stand are ripped out of her grasp and off the surface of the roof to meet Thor's eye where he stands towering above her. Mikaela jumps to her feet, fingers itching to snatch the scope back.

"It is a ship," Thor confirms, his voice more animated than she's heard in a long time.

Rocket runs up Thor's back to perch on his shoulder. "Let me see, let me _see_!" he hisses.

Thor moves the scope over slightly and Rocket clings to it, pressing his face up to the lens. "Oh _shit_ ," he says.

"What?" Mikaela asks, hope and excitement rising in her like a tsunami.

"That," Rocket stutters, "That's Quill's ship. That's my ship!"

Mikaela's hopes are dulled, but she is overjoyed still for her new friend. "It's the Guardians?" she asks, looking into the sky. She can see it from here now, it's coming so steadily.

"Someone's _carrying_ it," Thor mutters, having taken the scope back again. "A woman."

"Wait, what?" Mikaela blurts, tapping his arm. He looks down at her as he passes the telescope back to her. "Let me see," she mutters.

Fucking hell, he's right.

The star is a god damn _woman_.

The star is a woman, _glowing_ , and flying, and carrying a massive spaceship.

"Oh, I want to meet her," Mikaela breathes.

"Give it back, I wanna see if I can see them," Rocket snaps.

Mikaela takes no offence, knowing she'd likely be as snippy if she thought her family was coming back to her.

They can hear it coming now - or they can hear _her_ coming; Mikaela isn't sure where the noise is coming from.

"Oh my god," Rocket whispers from Thor's shoulder.

It's getting closer and closer. Mikaela can make out the shape of the woman and the silhouette of the ship from the rooftop now.

It's not her people, she knows that, but it means that maybe it _could_ be her people some day soon.

The building is shaking. Mikaela can make out the features on the woman's face.

Thor puts the telescope down on the roof again. He looks at Mikaela, then at Rocket. "Do you not wish to be down there when she lands?" he asks.

"Shit, yeah, c'mon, kid," Rocket rushes, leaping from Thor's shoulder and bolting towards the door off the roof.

Mikaela doesn't hesitate in following after him, somewhere touched that he wants her to come with him. She's so caught up in the excitement of it all and her disappointment that it's not Tony and Peter that she completely forgets she's wearing a bracer that could transform into a suit and let her fly them down there.

They thunder down stairs and along corridors, panting with the effort and the exhilaration.

"God damn you, Quill," Rocket sometimes mutters, but he sounds so happy.

They break free from the building and start sprinting across the grass. Mikaela can see two figures walking down the ramp of the ship, one supporting the other. Steve is there to meet the weaker one, taking them off the other stranger.

The scene doesn't sit right with Mikaela. Steve doesn't know the Guardians, does he? And aren't there more Guardians than that?

"Oh no," Rocket groans.

Mikaela sees Pepper, and a realisation dawns on her when the redhead woman embraces the weak stranger.

He's not a stranger.

Mikaela's legs pump harder than they ever have before, sheer shock closing her throat and stinging her eyes.

She runs and runs and runs and then she is upon them and Steve looks heartbroken and Pepper is crying and Tony is _there_ , he's right _there_ , but she can't see Peter yet but that's okay because Tony is _here_ and that means Peter is too and-

She stops short from throwing herself at Tony because she finally notices the state he's in. "Oh my god," she pants. "Tony, oh my god, you're back." But he looks terrible.

He won't look at her. Why won't he look at her?

She looks past him, at the other person from inside the ship. It's a blue-skinned, bald woman, and Rocket is sitting next to her and taking her hand. The glowing woman has stopped glowing and is watching them all curiously.

"Tony?" Mikaela asks, and she looks back to her guardian, to one of the most important people in her life, and he _still_ won't look at her. He just stares at the ground and breathes heavily and lets a few tears fall.

Pepper sobs and quickly squeezes Mikaela's hand before guiding Tony towards the building.

"I'm sorry," Steve says, and she has never seen him look so genuinely pained.

Then he follows after them. The others, who had gathered at the ship, give her sad looks, and then they, too, walk away.

Mikaela's heart is thumping in her ears. Suddenly she feels like she can't breathe or hear or feel or see. It's like she's been shoved underwater.

The implied message fights against her reluctance and denial.

A raw stab of pain in her chest nearly buckles her.

She stumbles, glancing around her for something, anything, to make the pain go away.

Rocket is looking up at her, tears in his eyes, and she sees sympathy amongst his own pain.

Pete's not here.

He didn't come back.

Tony couldn't look at her because he didn't bring Peter back.

He must be out there, somewhere. Tony must just have not been able to find him. Maybe the glowing woman doesn't speak their language and he couldn't tell her they needed to find Peter.

"Do you know Nick Fury?"

The voice startles Mikaela.

It's the glowing woman. She does speak English. In fact, she sounds American.

Mikaela needs to make a new excuse for Peter's absence before she loses it.

"No, but I think I've heard the humans talk about him. Ask Mikaela."

Mikaela looks at Rocket at the sound of her name.

The glowing woman who isn't glowing anymore approaches Mikaela, adopting a friendly expression.

Mikaela is barely holding it together.

Peter isn't _here._ Why the hell isn't he here?

"Hi, do you know Nick Fury?" the woman asks.

Mikaela takes a while to find her voice. Long enough that the woman starts to look concerned. "Where's Peter?"

The woman frowns. "Who?"

"The kid?"

It's the blue-skinned woman. Her voice is dark and monotonous and hollow.

Mikaela nods.

"Vanished. With our friends."

Her breath escapes her. The blonde woman reaches out to steady Mikaela, and then the tears start to fall.

"Fury," Mikaela says, clearing her throat, embarrassed, denial flaring again, nausea churning in her stomach. "Fury vanished. Sorry."

The blonde woman looks upset, but then Mikaela can't see her face anymore because she has wrapped her arms around Mikaela and brought her into an embrace. Mikaela doesn't fight it. She doesn't have the capacity.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," Mikaela croaks out, sniffing and tensing her entire body in an attempt to not start sobbing.

The woman shushes her gently and rubs her back. "It's okay," she whispers. After a moment, she says, "I'm Carol. What's your name?"

"Mikaela."

"It's okay, Mikaela."

"You didn't see a guy my age in a suit with big, white bug eyes?" Mikaela asks. Her voice is so quiet and weak.

"No, I'm sorry."

"Maybe he just had his mask off - he has light brown hair and it's really fluffy and bouncy when he's had his mask on and he has these eyes-"

She can't speak anymore.

"I just came across their ship when they were adrift in space," Carol says gently, pulling away as if to show her genuine expression to prove her words.

"I'm sorry, kid, but Nebula said-" Rocket begins, walking up to them.

Mikaela's voice can't make it past the lump in her throat. She clenches her jaw and looks pleadingly at Rocket, making him pause. He sighs and takes her hand. She stares at him, another few tears falling.

"C'mon, let's go inside with the others."

The four of them start to walk across the grass, Mikaela's face contorting and crumpling with the effort of not letting her emotions explode. She stumbles every other step, her limbs clumsy and heavy and slow, her mind too preoccupied to compensate.

"This is the Avengers Facility," Rocket explains quietly to his companion, Nebula. "They're like the Earth version of us." Mikaela looks at him, only realising that she was waiting for a punchline when it didn't come.

Nebula said their friends vanished too.

They find the rest of the team in the private kitchen. Pepper is insisting they find Tony fresh clothes, and the others are standing around, in awe that someone actually came back.

"I'm going to change too," Carol says, detaching herself from Mikaela to walk into another room. Mikaela hadn't even realised the woman had linked arms with her.

She spots Thor, back to sulking, at a far point in the room.

Rocket is quietly listing the names of the people in the room for Nebula's benefit, and then announces her name when they all turn to look at him.

"Glad to have you here," Steve says earnestly.

Mikaela sits gently on the edge of a chair, staring into nothing.

Everyone is just.. _functioning_ around her? Natasha is making glasses of water, Bruce is quietly speaking with Rhodes, even Rocket seems mostly alright.

Mikaela, on the other hand, feels like she's ripping apart at the seams. She's balancing on an edge and it isn't going to take much to tip her over.

She feels _so_ goddamn lost and she doesn't have the slightest idea what to do about it.

Peter isn't fucking _here_ , and that fact is tearing her into tiny little pieces she doesn't think she'll ever be able to put back together again.

She has never felt true loss before. She thinks it might just be the end of her.


End file.
